


Alterations

by Tarchannon



Series: 2020 Universe [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Canon Rewrite, F/M, Identical Dialog, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-07
Updated: 2012-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-03 05:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/377565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarchannon/pseuds/Tarchannon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Overall: A canon rewrite of specific scenes emphasizing the slashy subtext of the original X-Men film, as the foundation of an original series.<br/>This part: Logan awakens in the last place he’d ever considered. Introductions and a proposition<br/>follow. 3rd person. A three part reiteration: Logan POV, Jean POV, Scott POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New York State of Mind

**Author's Note:**

> 1) All of the blocking noted that occurs in the canonical scenes, particularly Scott’s glances, are taken directly from the film. The added exposition and inner dialog change the work significantly to serve as a basis for future stories.  
> 2) Many of the scenes are reiterated from more than one POV (as a writing excercise).   
> 3) “_” contains spoken dialog, /_/ contains thoughts, *_* contains mental communication  
> 4) A ‘thought burst’ is a telepathic technique to communicate emotion as thought, and is comprised of a rapid montage of images that portray that emotion.  
> 5) Tremendous volumes of thanks to Val Thomas for being a beta and a friend! You are the tops! You are the coliseum! ;)  
> 6) The story takes place in July, 2020.  
> 7) The original story was posted in 2002 - this was my first fic as originally posted; I hope I've improved significantly over the last decade. :)

Logan POV.

A tiny lance of fire flashed, blossoming just enough to bring him out of the gray. With the barest hint of consciousness, Logan launched himself off the medical bed, instinctively lowering and rotating his arm away from the offending hollow sliver of metal. Simultaneously, the same hand captured the wrist holding the syringe, a dozen tiny cables attached with clips to tabs on his chest yanked free of their moorings, and he rotated to clutch the throat of the white coat. A deep growl rumbled in his throat as his fingers closed around a tender windpipe. Within a fraction of a second, the woman in the lab coat was clutched hard against his chest, secured firmly in his grasp. 

She had amazing red hair.

He saw her eyes widen in surprise, but not fear, he smelled. 

He took in his surroundings, noting the metallic tang of alien pewter walls and the location of the door. They were alone. The woman was strong for her size, but she didn’t struggle and that waft of fear never appeared. She smelled… *good*. His hormones instantly responded. 

Suppressing the rush of testosterone, he determined that she was no immediate threat and released her, off-balance, to slide down to the floor gasping for breath. 

Within three heartbeats, he was passing through the door into a well lit, pewter hallway. Cold. Angular. Grid formation. Probably military, he surmised. Within moments, he secured some clothing and was scouting for potential exit points when he heard the voices.

*Hey. Over here.*

Flattening himself along the wall, using the only available cover – the slight projection of a vertical cylinder in the nearby wall. He was within inches when the cylinder opened. An elevator. He backed in warily, his instincts telling him to get as far from the lab as fast as he could. The door closed automatically.

The door opened into a completely different place. He hesitated, surprised. Wood walls, fresh air, sunlight. His nose picked up the scent of acorns, floor wax, wood polish. Voices came from behind him. 

*This way. Follow me.*

He launched himself into the hallway, turning sharply to flatten himself to the wall just outside the elevator door. 

/How could…?/ The door closed. 

The hallway was long, dark oak paneled walls capped with stone arched ceilings and stretched some distance to his left and right. Sunlight streamed in through a window a little further down the hall on his side. A bit further, the hallway opened, probably an entryway, and a stairway just beyond. No guards. No warning claxons. Strange.

*Did you see him?* A voice high, off to his left. 

Logan skittered down to the window alcove, using the cover to look back. He paused briefly, taking in the large double doors across the hall in the entryway. Seeing no one, he launched himself past a paneled pillar, across the hall to the door, and grabbed the door handle.

*Maybe he’s in here.* The voice came from the far side of the hall. He flew to the far side of the pillar, facing directly away from the main doors. 

Footsteps, many loud footsteps, descending the stair. Logan cursed silently.

/Children!? What the …?/

The herd hit the bottom of the stairs, crossed the entryway, passed behind him and continued back toward the elevator he emerged from just moments ago. Logan swiftly slipped around the pillar to remain out of sight of the receding flock of backpacks. 

*There he is.. Follow me.* The voice came from the doors again. 

Directly to his right, opposite the main doors, was a large door through the wood paneled wall. /Best shot…/

Logan nearly flew to the door, using the pillar as much as possible to guard his flank. It opened easily, and he gracefully entered, spinning to close the door softly. A heartbeat later he sensed the movement in the air. 

/Not alone. Not by a lot./ He turned slowly.

“Hello, Logan.”

Logan saw he was standing in a wood paneled study. On the far side of the room, a large bank of cut glass windows let in the light, the view partially blocked to the left by a large blackboard inscribed with chalky arcane symbols and some rich draperies. Next to the blackboard, in the center of the room, was a large desk behind which sat a middle aged bald man with the deep, soothing voice. A half dozen teenagers were seated in classroom desks sat in front of the blackboard. They had turned in their seats to eye him intently.

“I want your papers on the strong and weak forces on my desk Wednesday morning. Class dismissed,” the man said firmly addressing the class. The kids quickly gathered their things and bolted past him, inspecting him with curious and overt glances. Logan stood agape as one of the students, just a moment behind the others, left the room without opening the door, sliding through like a ghost.

“Physics,” the bald man said to him, raising a textbook in the air to show him and gently smiling. Logan’s head snapped around at the explanation. “I’m Charles Xavier. Would you like some breakfast?”

“Where am I?”

“Upstate New York.” The man rolled around from behind the desk. A wheelchair. “You were attacked. My people brought you here for medical attention.”

“I don’t need medical attention,” Logan grumbled, clearly confused. The man with the calming voice and the gray eyes met and held his eyes. Power – Logan could feel it in the man. 

/This has to be the pack leader./

“Yes… of course” the man said knowingly. A cold rush hit him hard. He felt transparent.

/How can he…?/ His tension level ratcheted upward another notch. /Get it together, Wolverine!/

Logan quickly examined the room to help still his thoughts. “Where is the girl?”

“Rogue. She’s here, she’s fine.” He smiled reassuringly. 

“Really?” He couldn’t hide the edge of panic nor sarcasm. 

For an instant, Xavier’s eyes went distant, his eyes crinkled slightly. /Interesting./

Logan detected footsteps in the hallway, a pause, then the click of the latch of door behind him. He turned rapidly and fluidly to face the door, leaving Xavier at his back. /Smooth move, knucklehead./ 

“Logan, I’d like you to meet Ororo Munroe, also known as Storm, and this is Scott Summers, also called Cyclops.”

Logan clinically sized up the white haired woman. /Tiny, nice rack, not a physical threat./ 

He met her eyes – wise and strong – and she held his gaze, which was no mean feat. She smelled of peace and confidence. /Interesting./

He shifted his attention to the young man in the doorway who was extending his hand. Logan’s clinical evaluation ticked through his mind. /Young, cocky, confident, strong./ 

Cyclops seemed to meet his eyes. /Can’t see the eyes,/ he noted. His instincts created a flare of distrust.

The young man hesitated when he did not take his hand, and his head tipped downward, sizing him up. The hand fell, and Logan caught a whiff of something… Logan stared into his face. Cyclops seemed to meet his eyes, holding them briefly, then his countenance lowered again slightly and tilting away. /Not fear, but…?/

“They saved your life,” Xavier noted softly, as he watched the exchange with interest.

Logan saw the tall, beautiful red head came from the hallway behind Cyclops, smoothly stepping around the pack leader wannabe, then the hot white haired woman, and then to pass by him, looking him in the eye the entire time. /Just a bit closer then necessary. Nice tits./ 

The white coat, he smelled, only this time no coat. His hormones jumped again as she came to stop next to Xavier. He was surrounded, he noted, but he reined in his instinct to run. This could be interesting - *if* he could figure out what the hell was going on.

“I believe that you have met Dr. Jean Gray.” 

/Jean… nice./ Logan had just enough control to avoid a low, throaty growl.

Xavier paused just momentarily. Logan said nothing. “You are in my school for the gifted – for mutants. You’ll be safe here from Magneto.”

“What’s a Magneto?” Logan’s incredulity sounded clearly in his voice.

“A very powerful mutant that believes that a war is brewing between mutants and the rest of humanity. I have been following his activities for some time. You were attacked by an associate of his, a man called Sabertooth.”

“Sabertooth?” Logan nearly chuckled. /This is ridiculous!/

This whole situation was so unreal, he wondered if he was really conscious. But it felt real. Hell, since he had decided to stick his toe in this pool, he had might as well go all the way. He turned to Storm.

“Lemme get this straight,” he said, raising his hands to point at Ororo like a cowboy with a pair of six-shooters.

“Storm,” naming her. Turning back to Xavier, he asked, dripping with disdain, “What do they called you – Wheels?”

Logan continued, “This is the stupidest thing I ever heard.” He chuckled, turning to face the visored wonder. In a few steps he was in the young man’s face, a grim expression on his face and clearly challenging him. “Cyclops, is it?” 

Logan aggressively grabbed him by the front of his sweater, bringing him right up to his face, challenging him with his eyes – or at least where his eyes should be. “D‘ya wanna get outta my way?” he breathed dangerously. 

Scott calmly looked him in the face, then his face tilted down, just slightly, then back up. Logan thought he was being sized up, and inhaled to catch the response. 

/Curious. No fear, a flash of anger, but…something…/

Scott carefully and coolly looked around Logan’s head to Xavier. 

With a deadly calm, Xavier spoke. “Logan it’s been almost 15 years, hasn’t it? Living from day to day, moving from place to place. Living with no memory of who and what you are…” 

“Shut up!” Logan gasped, eyes widening, head swiveling to focus on the man that knew _way_ too much about him. For the first time in a long time - when conscious anyway - Logan felt the sharp edge of panic.

“Give me a chance. I may be able to help you find some answers.” He saw no deception in Xavier’s eyes, nor smelled any foul intent.

“How do you know?” he managed to stutter, nearly whispering.

*You aren’t the only one with gifts.*

Logan’s eyes widened as he came to the realization that Xavier’s mouth didn’t move - his voice was *inside* his head.

*Hey. Over here.* *This way. Follow me.* *There he is.. Follow me.* Voices echoed quietly throughout his head. Involuntarily, he turned to glance in the various directions of the phantom sounds. 

Logan stood, shocked. He searched Xavier’s eyes for the merest hint of deception and found none. After a long tense moment, the barest hint of a smile crossed his lips as the wonder of it all struck him.

“What _is_ this place?”

 

Jean POV.

Jean had been running tests on her new patient for four hours, her curiosity intensifying with each new result.

Scott had grabbed this “Wolverine” character off the hood of a camper truck just moments before it exploded. Ororo said that Sabertooth had knocked him more than 100 feet using a birch trunk like a baseball bat. He had landed on the hood of the vehicle. The young girl that was with him, Rogue, had told them that just before the team arrived, she and Logan had had an accident, and that he had been thrown through the window and well down the road on his face. Rogue insisted that he was laying there with limbs in impossible directions, seemingly dead, and then he just got up. As he walked toward her, she had seen his limbs straighten, his limp recede, and the gashes on his face simply disappear.

Jean knew that she had told the truth – her limited telepathy indicated as much. It was amazing that he was still alive. All of that happened just over eight hours ago, and her patient had nearly fully recovered from what should have been multiply fatal injuries. 

Logan and the girl were loaded on the Blackbird and flown back to New York at breakneck speed. Though Storm was far from a trained professional, she was accomplished enough to know a lost cause when she saw one. She said this one was a lost cause.

And she was certainly wrong. At the moment, there was no cut, no wound, no bruise, barely a detectible injury on the man. Stranger still, no scars. The video on the blackbird had shown several long lacerations that had since disappeared. 

Jean ran her hands across his torso, efficiently examining the areas evident on the video. Her hands lingered. /His skin is perfect. Hairy, but perfect./

She continued with the examination, and was satisfied. /What a marvel…/ Then with a bit of guilt, /…and attractive./

She sighed and went over to the cabinet that held the phlebotomy supplies and returned to the bed.

Getting an idea, she wondered, /Maybe his healing factor is blood borne…/ 

She sighed as she realized that she had forgotten to grab the vial from the cart. Glancing over, she used her telekinetic power to draw the vial through the air to her. She efficiently snapped the new needle into the draw sleeve, then the vial into the other side. She leaned over to insert the needle into a prominent vein. 

A heart beat later she gasped as Wolverine had launched himself off the medical bed, instinctively lowering and rotating his arm away from the needle. Simultaneously, the same hand captured her wrist. He spun around her and pinned her so quickly, she had no chance to respond. She heard a deep growl rumbled in his throat and his fingers closed around her windpipe. In that heartbeat, her back was pressed tightly to his chest.

Shaken slightly, she stayed calm and reached out to his mind - startled, frightened, more than a little dangerous, but not reckless or homicidal.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Something in him relaxed. She was sure that he would not harm her. /Not that I can defend myself,/ she mentally grumbled. Then she sensed a thought burst of… lust?

Just as she was about to consider protecting herself, he released her and ran out the door. She coughed for about half a minute after the air returned to her lungs. 

*Professor, Logan’s awake. He panicked and bolted. He roughed me up a bit, so be careful*

*Jean, are you…*

*Perfectly fine. He just surprised me. I couldn’t tell he was conscious. Shields, probably. He’s likely in the command level hallways. Do you want me to assist?*

*No, I’ll take care of it myself*

Jean smiled at the thought burst of fatherly pride that followed that comment. After a moment, she started to pick up the mess that Logan had created with his dramatic exit. As she cleaned, she couldn’t help but think about her newest patient. 

/What power… ferocity… strength… barely controlled passion just bubbling under the surface!/

She felt that familiar tingle of warmth. Gently, she rubbed her throat, which made her feel all the more guilty. She was attracted to the man. Not really her type – she already had a good man. She loved Scott with all of her heart. They were like two halves of a whole. 

/But when he growled…/ 

She shuddered in pleasure and disgust at the thought, then started to put him out of her mind. /Get it together, Jean! He’ll be gone soon, and your little lumberjack biker crush will go away./

Then she stood in the lab, hands full, dumfounded, as one thought passed through her head. 

/What if he doesn’t go away?/ 

* * *  
Jean had just finished cleaning up when Xavier’s mental voice called to her. 

*Jean, Logan is here in my office. Could you come up for introductions?*

*I’ll be right there*

A moment later, Jean got her swirling emotions under control, and swept out the door of the med lab.

* * *  
As she approached Xavier’s office, she caught a few distinct thoughts. Xavier was playing a game - handling Logan - and he wanted everyone to play along, or play nice anyway.

Jean quickly scanned for everyone’s surface impressions, a trick she had developed with her oldest friends for occasions just like this. Though she could, she made it a policy not to pry without permission. 

Ororo was openly broadcasting mixed thoughts. She noted Logan’s stance, which was indicative of combat training. She thought his manner was rough, with more than a hint of a primal nature, and it simmered within him, barely contained. Scott was strangely blank. No, not blank, just controlled, guarded. 

She was surprised as she could always read him this close. Logan’s thoughts were also guarded. 

“They saved your life,” Xavier was saying as she approached.

Jean, determined to assert control, made contact with Logan’s eyes immediately and held them. /He understands strength./ 

The redhead entered the room, smoothly stepping around Scott in the doorway, passing between Ororo and Logan to stop behind Xavier’s shoulder. She felt Scott glance at her, then realized that she *was* strutting a bit. /This is not Milan, Jean./

She was proud that she held it together. She held his eyes, gave away no power. She watched his nose flair, then noted a slight change in attitude. *I wonder if his olfactory senses are also highly developed,* she thought aloud to Xavier. 

Charles introduced her. “I believe that you have met Dr. Jean Gray.” 

Xavier paused momentarily. Logan said nothing. “You are in my school for the gifted – for mutants. You’ll be safe here from Magneto.”

“What’s a Magneto?” Logan sounded like he thought Charles was pulling his leg. 

“A very powerful mutant that believes that a war is brewing between mutants and the rest of humanity. I have been following his activities for some time. You were attacked by an associate of his, a man called Sabertooth.”

“Sabertooth?” Logan clearly projected his bemusement. He turned to Storm.

“Lemme get this straight,” he said, raising his hands to point at Ororo like a cowboy with a pair of six-shooters.

“Storm,” naming her. Turning back to Xavier, he asked, dripping with disdain, “What do they called you – Wheels?” Logan shook his head in disbelief. 

“This is the stupidest thing I ever heard.”

Then he chuckled, turning to face Scott. In a few steps he was in Scott’s face, a grim expression on his face and clearly challenging him. “Cyclops, is it?” 

Logan aggressively grabbed Scott by the front of his sweater, bringing him right up to his face, challenging him with his eyes – or at least where his eyes should be. “D’ya wanna get outta my way?” he breathed dangerously. 

Jean caught a flash of annoyance in her lover. 

Scott calmly looked him in the face, then looked down, then back up.

There was something else there, just a hint. /No, I must be mistaken./

Scott carefully and coolly looked around Logan’s head to Xavier. 

With a deadly calm, Xavier spoke. “Logan it’s been almost 15 years, hasn’t it? Living from day to day, moving from place to place. Living with no memory of who and what you are…” 

“Shut up!” Logan gasped, eyes widening, head swiveling to focus on Xavier. Jean didn’t need to be telepathic to see that Logan was beginning to panic.

“Give me a chance. I may be able to help you find some answers.” 

Jean held her breath for a long tense moment.

“How do you know?” he managed to stutter, nearly whispering.

They all heard Charles tell Logan, *You aren’t the only one with gifts.*

Logan’s eyes widened, then he quickly turned to glance in the various directions, one after the other.

Logan stood, his mouth open, clearly in shock. He stared at Charles for a few moments with a look of surprise and concern. After a long tense moment, the barest hint of a smile crossed his lips.

/Perfectly kissable lips,/ she thought before she could stop herself. /Damn!/

“What _is_ this place?” Logan asked. 

Scott POV.

Scott was tired.

About 20:00 hours yesterday, Charles Xavier discovered that Sabertooth had traveled to the wild hinterlands of northern Canada, a trip obviously undertaken for a specific reason. Cerebro had picked up several mutants in that general area, so he assumed that they were in danger. Ororo and Scott suited up and flew up there to take a look.

The Blackbird was a state of the art military prototype vehicle. It was *fast*. Even so, it still took four hours to get the team up there. They searched for two hours, with Charles on the phone guiding them, to find Sabertooth and the mutants he was hunting. They had gotten there just in time, rescuing a young girl and a thirty-five to forty year old man from a wrecked camper that was about to explode. The man had been in really rough shape after the beating that Sabertooth gave him, and Scott had been impressed that he was still alive. Initially, they had been concerned that he would never make it back to the Academy, but strangely, his condition had improved as they went along. Scott and Ororo gotten them back to the school about 05:30 hours. Scott had just enough time to catch a nap – in a cold lonely bed, no less - before he had to teach.

English. Literature. 08:00.

/Why do I do things like that to myself?/ he had wondered, as he cradling his head on his desk and blinked fiercely to get some liquid back into his eyes.

Class had passed without incident, and he had planned to nap in his office for an hour before his next class. In fact, he was heading to the well worn couch in his office when Charles reached his mind out to him.

*Scott, Logan is here in my office. Could you come to my office for introductions?*

*I’ll be right there* he thought aloud, but inwardly he groaned. /This guy better not be a jerk./

Scott turned and walked back down the hallway toward the classroom he just left, descended the main stairwell, and crossed the entryway to Xavier’s office door. He paused outside, as he saw Ororo wave, heading in his direction.

Scott could hear the conversation from outside the study if he listened closely. 

“Where is the girl?” Logan asked.

/He obviously is protective of the girl. I wonder what their relationship is?/ he wondered as he listened.

“Rogue. She’s here, she’s fine.”

/Charles can sound so reassuring when he wants to,/ Scott thought. /It’s probably why I’m still alive./

Ororo came up behind him on cat’s feet to stand comfortably against his back, her hands on his shoulders and leaning slightly to his left to hear better. They were old friends, as close to brother and sister as could be imagined. Scott strained to hear with Ororo breathing in his ear.

“Really?” Logan asked. 

/Insolent. I don’t like him already./ He sighed.

Xavier reached out to his mind. *Scott and Ororo, can you come in now. Our guest is a bit agitated, be kind*

The man Scott had rescued in Canada was turning toward the door as Ororo opened it. She stepped into the room, and he followed, stopping dead in the wide doorway as he got his first real look at a conscious Wolverine. 

Logan stood about 5’ 9” and had dark brown upswept hair and active deep brown eyes. He was extremely well muscled, with a deep chest and very little body fat. He looked like he’d weigh about 220 pounds, but after lifted him around, Scott knew that he was heavier, obviously more dense. He was a striking man, with regular masculine features, a long straight nose, and slightly backswept ears. He wore long sideburns, extending his hairline almost to his chin. He was scruffy – he probably hadn’t shaved for days - and it looked like the fur ran all over the rest of him as well. He looked fast and strong, and not just a bit dangerous. It must be the eyes – intelligent, aware, crafty, but a bit too wild. Even after the events of the last 12 hours, he was cocky and confident. 

Scott disliked him on sight. 

“Logan, I’d like you to meet Ororo Munroe, also known as Storm…” Scott watched as he sized her up like he needed to take her out. He bristled at the thought. 

“…and this is Scott Summers, also called Cyclops.” Scott extended his hand as Logan turned that powerful gaze in his direction. He stopped, momentarily stunned as he looked deeply into Logan’s eyes. He simply stared as Logan’s eyes challenged, sizing him up. The sheer power and intensity that the man exuded bored into his brain, touching something that hadn’t been touched in a very long time. He had to look away. He tipped his head down, unconsciously scanning down his body. Catching himself, he snapped his eyes back up to meet Logan’s eyes, then held them.

Then it was over, Logan had seen through him, judged him, and with a dismissive twist of the mouth, found him wanting. He was deliberately not accepting his outstretched hand. Logan started to turn his attention from Scott, then hesitated, bringing that burning gaze back to meet his. Scott could tell he was searching for something, and he again broke first, lowering his eyes, but looking away this time so as not to revisit his earlier faux pas.

Scott was shocked at his break in control and upset for not asserting himself better, but he kept it well hidden. /Privacy in the presence of telepaths is tricky at best,/ he thought sourly.

He had never failed a challenge before, not since his time on the streets. There was just something about this man.

Logan turned his attention from Scott’s hardening countenance as Xavier started to speak.

“They saved your life,” Xavier noted softly, watching the exchange with interest.

Scott watched with interest as Logan’s attention passed over his shoulder to the hall. Whatever emotions he was feeling were quickly overcome by anger as he saw the older man leering at *his* girlfriend. Jean strutted by him. Strutted! He couldn’t believe that she was encouraging him. She stopped behind Charles.

/United psionic front, I guess,/ the rational part of his brain thought as the non-rational part glanced at Jean’s beautiful face, then at Logan’s leering expression.

/Jean is staring back!/ Hot fury blossomed. He dropped his eyes to the floor in order to control the rush. Unconsciously, his mouth opened and closed as he got a grip on his irrational emotions. 

After a moment, he brought his eyes back up and they traitorously focused back on Logan, but definitely not his face. Whatever fire had been raging was suddenly quenched by a cold sobering thought. He shoved it from his mind before he could even consider it. 

“I believe that you have met Dr. Jean Gray.” Scott barely heard the introduction or the following exchange as he struggled to recover.

“Sabertooth?” Scott could hear his snide tone and that brought his wandering thoughts back to the conversation. Logan turned to Storm.

“Lemme get this straight,” he said, raising his hands to point at Ororo like a cowboy with a pair of six-shooters.

“Storm,” naming her. Turning back to Xavier, he asked, dripping with disdain, “What do they called you – Wheels?”

/If looks could kill…,” Scott thought sourly. Scott’s head throbbed as his power involuntarily flared. /Oh, yeah. They can./ 

Though the violent thought occasionally crossed his mind, deep down he knew that he never wanted to kill anyone with his gift again - even that animal. The fact that he retained that conviction in the face of this sudden, powerful response helped him to somewhat regain his equilibrium. 

Logan continued, “This is the stupidest thing I ever heard.” 

The short man chuckled without mirth, turning to face Scott. In a few steps he was in Scott’s face, a grim expression on his face and clearly challenging him again. “Cyclops, is it?” 

Logan aggressively grabbed Scott by the front of his cardigan, bringing him right up to his face and challenging him with his eyes. “D’ya wanna get outta my way,” he breathed, words laden with dangerous intent. 

Fortunately, he had a few moments to regain his famed ‘Fearless Leader’ control. Scott calmly looked him in the face, a façade that utterly belied the mass confusion that reigned within him. On one hand, he wanted to fry this cocky redneck, and on the other…

He couldn’t help himself. He looked down, down *there*, then back up. /Damn, I didn’t want to do that…/

To redirect attention, Scott carefully and coolly looked around Logan’s head to Xavier. That, and to avoid looking at him in the face.

With a deadly calm, Xavier spoke. “Logan it’s been almost fifteen years, hasn’t it? Living from day to day, moving from place to place. Living with no memory of who and what you are…” 

“Shut up!” Logan gasped, eyes widening, head swiveling to focus on Xavier. Scott didn’t need to be telepathic to see that Logan was beginning to panic.

“Give me a chance. I may be able to help you find some answers.” 

Scott held his breath for a long tense moment.

“How do you know?” he managed to stutter, nearly whispering.

They all heard Charles tell Logan, *You aren’t the only one with gifts.*

Logan’s eyes widened, then he quickly turned to glance in the various directions, one after the other.

Logan stood, his mouth open, clearly in shock. He stared at Charles for a few moments with a look of surprise and concern. After a long tense moment, the barest hint of a smile crossed the older man’s lips.

/Perfectly kissable lips,/ he thought before he could stop himself. /Damn!/

“What _is_ this place?” Logan asked.


	2. Logan Apologizes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See notes in chapter 1.

Logan POV

Jean was attaching those bloody sticky patches back onto my chest as I lay on the plastic lined platform of the medical scanner. /Better than that cold steel table I woke up on,/I thought grumpily.

Jean was being very ‘professional’ I noted, but my thoughts were far from professional. /Telepath. Shit! Pay attention, Logan…/

But try as I might, I couldn’t help but notice her pale, strong hands, shapely arms, long _bruised_ neck…

/Shit, shit, shit!/

I tried to catch her eyes and stuttered, “I’m sorry.”

After a moment, her eyes focused on mine as my comment sunk in. She actually looked surprised. /Damn, you always gotta screw up…/

I looked away, feeling no small amount of guilt and embarrassment. /I gotta stop with this ‘everybody out ta get me shit./

Jean, probably sensing my thoughts just a bit, asked me a question in a soft voice as she continued fiddling with the sensors. “For what?”

I pointed to her neck at the place where I had grabbed her. “If I hurt you…”

She looked at me then, really looked at me. She gave me a small smile, looking pleased, and nodded slightly. My heart had jumped, and all I could do was nod dumbly. She stepped away to twiddle with the dial on the big tube of the machine I was lying on.

/Well, thank god she’s not mad at me./

The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that I should just play it cool here. /These people are obviously good folks – screwed up, but good folks./

/At the very least, I can try and make some new… friends./ The word sounded strange in my head, as I haven’t had many friends. Wryly, /That I can remember, anyway./

I sighed and glanced at Jean again. /She sure is hot, though…/ A wicked thought ran through my head.

“So… couldn’t wait to get my shirt off again, “ I deadpanned.

Jean turned toward me. I had lifted my head and turned toward her. A look of mild shock with alternating hints of disapproval and amusement ran across her face. Wearing a shit-eating-grin, I put my head back down. 

A moment later, I whooshed into the instrument with a start.

***************************************************

Jean POV

I was attaching the adhesive sensor EKG pads to the furball. I wondered, /Where did I pick that one up?/ 

Then I thought naughtily, /I’ve always liked fur./ 

I suppressed the thought immediately as I continued to press the devices onto his fuzzy chest. 

Though the tickle of his chest hair on my fingertips gave me a thrill, I remained completely professional. I noted a similarly inappropriate thought loudly crossing Logan’s mind at the same time. I couldn’t help but hear it, he was broadcasting. 

/So, the man is attracted to me. Good,/ I thought before I could catch it. I knew that I was clearly physically attracted to Logan. I had caught myself subconsciously telegraphing with my body language in the office earlier. I was not entirely happy about that. /I hope Scott didn’t notice./

Logan’s mind quieted for moment, then I clearly heard *Shit, shit, shit!*

Unsure of himself, he stuttered, “M’ sorry.”

For a moment confused about his intent, I focused on him. He looked away.

Returning to my work for a moment, I finished adjusting the initial scan parameters on the MRI instrument before asking, “For what?

He pointed to my neck. “If I hurt you…” His voice was low, and I couldn’t help but stare a moment at the muscular arm extended toward me. 

Forcing myself to look elsewhere, I looked at him - really looked at him. /Maybe he’s not such an animal after all./

I gave him a small smile and nodded slightly. I returned to the MRI console to set the scan time so we could start the testing. I could sense that Logan had relaxed a bit, and that was a good thing. 

/He certainly is a magnificent specimen./ I sighed, glancing at Logan again and a wicked thought ran through my head.

“So… couldn’t wait to get my shirt off again.” 

I was stunned. /He couldn’t possibly be telepathic, could he?/

He looked over at me, as I turned toward him, and for the life of me, I have no idea what I must have looked like. A Cheshire grin spread across his face and he put his head back down.

/No. Not telepathic. Just a _man_,/ I thought with not a little violence as I reached over and flicked the switch. Logan startled a bit as he was suddenly drawn into the big device. 

/Serves him right, hitting on someone else’s girlfriend,/ I half-heartedly grumbled to myself. 

After a few moments, I started to smile, admitting to myself that I did like the attention from our new guest. The smile was short lived as I remembered Scott. He certainly would _not_ appreciate Logan’s interest. 

The machine began to scan, and the results fully occupied my mind for the next few hours.


	3. Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third person. Scott POV, Xavier POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See chapter 1 for notes.

Scott POV

Sitting in the med bay, Charles and I were staring at Logan’s MRI scans on the large view screens. We both had been having a mind-bogglingly busy year getting the Academy up and running, and the questions evoked by the events of recent days were weighing on us heavily. We sat in amicable silence, staring at the screen and pondering the possibilities. 

“What are you looking for, Eric,” Charles whispered aloud to himself. I noticed that he looked tired. 

Charles commented aloud again, responding to a private thought. “That’s strange. Why should this one be so important to him?”

“Maybe it’s his way with people,” I quipped.

“You don’t like him.” Charles made a statement, not a question. Though I was reasonably sure he was noticing our immediate friction, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of insecurity. 

/Maybe he noticed?/ My thoughts swirled at the mention of Wolverine. I can’t stand the man, and he looked at Jean like a starving man looks at a steak dinner. Most of the time, I’d like to rip his head off… except when I don’t. That’s the part that’s even more troubling. 

Joking and smiling to cover the slight waver in my voice, I asked, “How could you tell?”

“Well, I am psychic, you know, ” Charles replied with a small smile and a note of amusement. 

I wasn’t sure if I should take that as a joke or a reminder. Then again, since Logan arrived, I wasn’t sure about a lot of things. Our first encounter had revived some things I’d though I’d long left behind.

Charles’ eyes shifted to the door, subtly announcing an imminent arrival. Seconds later, Logan and Ororo entered the med bay and quickly crossed over to us. With an edge of worry and fear in her voice, Ororo asked Charles, “Where is Rogue?”

I watched as Charles’ gray eyes lost focus for a moment, then cleared. 

“She’s gone.”

 

Xavier POV

Scott sat with me in the medical bay, staring at Logan’s MRI scans on the large LCD view screens. My mind was already full of facts, numbers and forms from business concerns and completing the Academy accreditation, and now this conundrum required attention. My head swam, and I was having trouble putting the Rogue and Logan puzzle together. It was comforting that Scott sat with me. An amicable silence filled the room as we stared at the screen and pondered the possibilities. 

“What are you looking for, Eric,” I whispered aloud to myself. I felt tired. My mind rolled over the Wolverine issue. Why would Eric need Logan? His powers were self contained. He didn’t seem to be a likely candidate for joining the Brotherhood of Mutants either. Logan wasn’t one to tolerate coercion, nor did he have family or loved ones to be used to ensure his assistance.

“That’s strange. Why should this one be so important to him?” I muttered, not getting anywhere.

“Maybe it’s his way with people,” Scott quipped. I smiled, welcoming the break.

I wasn’t getting anywhere with my current line of thinking, so I decided to take a different approach. I prompted Scott, “You don’t like him.”

I had noticed Scott’s nearly instant hostility to Logan, and it made me wonder if Scott had caught something that I had overlooked about our Canadian friend.

Scott paused a second, and his mind closed a bit. Interesting. 

“How could you tell?” Scott joked, his voice revealing just a hint of something other than joviality. 

/He’s probably just embarrassed over his reaction to Logan’s appreciation of Jean,/ I thought. With a small smile, I replied, “Well, I am psychic, you know.” 

Scott smiled, but he still looked a bit uncomfortable. /Maybe we should discuss this later, / I thought, making a mental note.

I felt two minds quickly approaching and I glanced at the door. Ororo and Logan entered the med bay, quickly crossing to me. I could feel that her mind was disturbed. “Where is Rogue?” she asked urgently.

Concentrating, I quickly scanned the building, then the grounds for Rogue’s mind, fear growing in the pit of my stomach as more of the grounds were covered. 

“She’s gone.”


	4. The Bedroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan expresses his interest in Jean, who is tempted. Scott walks in on the connection,  
> and sparks fly with Logan. 1st person. A three part story: Jean POV, Scott POV, then Logan POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See chapter 1 for notes.

Jean POV

After Charles had returned from giving Logan the orientation tour of the Academy, he took him to the kitchen in the Mansion where Mama Martinez had left him a plate since he had missed dinner. He had left Logan there to eat and collect his thoughts. From his office in the Mansion, Charles had mentally asked me to go and pick him up and show him to his room. Since I had finished up for the day and was reading some journal articles in the Common Room, I decided to go right over and meet the intriguing man with the steel claws. I gave a final pass by the nearby TV room that the kids used most of the time, then walked over to the mansion. When I arrived, Logan was just finishing, and I walked him the short distance back to the staff wing of Xavier Hall. Logan was assigned an outside end room on the second floor overlooking the gardens. /Apparently, Charles wasn’t above a little bribery,/ I had thought.

On the way, I had kept our conversation to small talk – his thoughts on the school, dinner, how much he liked Canada. Without prying too much, I sensed a real struggle within between the civilized Logan and the wild, almost feral Wolverine. It was both interesting and disturbing.

I had heard his thoughts. *Quite a woman,* he had thought with tones of appreciation and sexual interest. Like just about everything else about the man, I had found his interest unsettling. After all, this was a man that had _attacked_ me earlier in the day. 

However during the afternoon, I had a chance to objectify my reaction to his behavior. I initially felt a little wary, but I was also reassured a bit from the impressions that I got on the walk over. 

/I can handle him if things get out of hand – at least long enough until help arrives./

His room had been prepped and the door was open when we arrived.

I crossed the room, turning a small knob that turned three rectangular lights room lights embedded in the corner of the room. To Logan, “I think you’ll be comfortable here.”

“Where is your room?” he asked with just a hint of suggestiveness.

“Down the hall – with Scott” I said neutrally. Having expected the question, I was a bit disappointed at the lack of originality. 

“Of course,” Logan muttered, nearly under his breath. I perceived a little animosity toward Scott. /The primary sexual rival,/ she reasoned clinically. /How very… animalistic./

Logan proceeded to look around the room, taking a couple steps toward the closet French doors. He opened them. I could sense he was a bit agitated, intensifying from the moment she mentioned Scott.

“Is that your gift – putting up with that guy?” he asked, dripping disdain. 

I was honestly surprised at his openness. No hidden agendas with this fellow.

/So, he is jealous of Scott,/ I thought, flattered. I quickly decided to play the game a bit to see if I could gather some information. I decided to assume control and alter the direction of the conversation. 

“Actually, I’m telekinetic – I can move things with my mind.”

Logan inspected the contents of the closet, then turned back me. He was clearly intrigued. “Really? What kinds of things?” 

I noted the sexual turn of his thoughts and to gain a bit more control, I thought that a demonstration of power might catch his attention. I focused on the closet doors, swinging them shut hard and quick enough to startle the man. With a measure of satisfaction, I watched him flinch. 

/Strong discipline,/ I thought. /When he wants to./ 

To finish the power play, I smiled and noted, “All kinds of things.” 

Logan glanced back to the doors to verify that they were actually closed. I sensed that the sexual bent of his thoughts was blunted a bit. /Good./

I continued, “I also have some telepathic ability...”

“Like the professor?”

“…but nowhere near that powerful.” I paused, considering how much information I should disclose. Well, Charles thought he was OK, so what the hell. I continued, “But he’s teaching me to develop it.”

Logan was impressed and took a couple steps toward me. “I’m sure he is,” his voice struggling to hide the respect and appreciation in his mind. Perhaps realizing that I could sense part of his thoughts, he tried to bluff. He continued toward me, stopping just a little too close. He stared intently into my eyes. /Why do men have to get aggressive when they are uncomfortable?/ I thought to myself.

“I’ll bet you’d like to read my mind,” he challenged. 

“I’d rather not,” I said, meeting his eyes coolly, calling his bluff. I could smell him, pine and cedar with just a hint of sex.

/He smells good,/ I thought. My attraction to the man surfaced in an involuntary rush.

“Oh, come on. You afraid you’ll like it?” he breathed in a deep whisper. 

I reveled, just for a moment, in my rush of hormones.

“I doubt it,” I countered quietly, with just a hint of smile on my lips. /I hope he doesn’t sense my attraction. This could be a problem./ 

“Maybe the professor is holding you back?,” he intimated. “Maybe he’s not alone.”

/The professor holding me back – nonsense! I’d still be stuck in that horrible asylum if it hadn’t been for Charles. Or insane. Or dead by now,/ she thought defensively. 

/And Scott… my best friend, lover… he’s been good to me for so long, supportive of me through things that few relationships survive. Certainly not everything is perfect, but when is it ever?/ 

The fact that this man would suggest this just to get in my pants made me angry.

“I hope you’re not suggesting that Scott is holding me back?” I snapped back, still in control but with a hint of fire added. 

My comment seemed to take him back a step, but he nearly growled his next comment. “I don’t know. He seems a little restrained for a woman like you.”

“Really?” I countered. His response was too deep, too invested. 

/This can’t be just about me. Scott had really gotten to him somehow./ My mind clinically clicked through possibilities

“Just an observation.”

/This guy doesn’t know a thing about Scott, and I’m not about to let this guy insult the man that he should thank for saving his fuzzy butt./ 

“If Scott opened his eyes without that visor, he could punch a hole though a mountain. I think it’s a good thing for all of us that he has a sense of control.” I was firm, a bit of anger leaking through, but that was OK with me. “Don’t you?”

Logan seemed a little embarrassed at my observation. He looked down for a moment, then started looking around the room to avoid my stare. He turned to walk back to the closet, apparently ashamed to look at me. That was more than I wanted to accomplish. I felt bad about that; after all we could use a guy like him around here. I started without really thinking it through. I found myself speaking, “Wait…”

Logan turned back toward me searching my face. He hesitated, so I waved him over. He approached, but not too close this time.

“All right.” I started to prepare myself for a mind scan, but I started to wonder if this was such a good idea. 

“I need you to try to relax.”

He looked at me intently. A long pause stretched out as I vacillated between wanting to read his mind, being afraid to read his mind, and wondering if it was a good idea considering his mental and emotional states. Finally, I decided to take the risk. I raised my hands towards Logan’s face, palms in, stopping just inches from his face. I looked down to the floor. I could feel his eyes boring into my face behind closed eyes. 

His mind opened to me and I saw a great deal of confusion – vast tracts of information that were hidden, others that were blurry. Though I didn’t have a wide base of reference, I had never come across such a thing. I scanned the parts that he remembered clearly, and sure enough, they ranged only over the last fifteen years or so. Initially, his memory was almost feral, then eventually he recovered. He must have suffered some incredible trauma – real or artificial. I saw his life unfold, his love of the Canadian wilderness, a cabin, the odd jobs and the iron man cage circuit. I saw the loneliness, and the occasional breaks of friendship and more. Most ended very badly. The fear of being discovered as a mutant, and the pain of the events. How he came across Rogue and ended up here. Since fifteen years was a relatively a short time and I was just doing a quick scan, I tried to look into the blurriness of his lost memories. After a few tries, I managed to find a trail to follow. The memories were dim, distorted. It was a nightmare if it was real. Memories of a tank of yellow, bubbling liquid and pain, so much pain. Huge needles, masked men, people in lab coats toasting with champagne as he suffered in the tank. Intense hate, and wave after wave of intense pain… 

The intensity startled me from the connection, and I gasped, disorientated. Logan gently grabbed my wrists to keep me from falling. My spinning mind registered that his hands were soft. Reeling, Logan held on to me, my hands gripping him on the chest and shoulder. His expression was new, one of deep concern. /Nice to see he knows that one,/ I thought dryly.

As my mind began to clear, he asked urgently, “What did you see?” 

I looked up, still clutching Logan for stability. The first thing I saw was Scott, his mouth wide in surprise. My brain registered how this situation might look to him, and though I knows that he trusts me implicitly, I am embarrassed at my apparent lapse in judgment. “Scott!” was all I could say.

I quickly dropped my hands to my sides and stepped away from Logan. I had to focus to regain my composure, fighting fuzziness in my brain from the effort of the scan and the high level of hormones in the air. I looked at Logan to let him know that it was OK, we were OK. In a deliberately calm voice, I said, “Good night, Logan.” 

I strode over to Scott, turning slightly to pass him in the doorway. His mind was a confusing and curious combination of things – surprise, fear, jealousy, anger, and others over an underlying trust in her. I was happy and dismayed simultaneously. I hesitated a second, asking Scott, “Are you coming?”

“In a minute,” he replied in a coldly even tone bearing just a hint of annoyance. I read in his mind that the trust and the anger won out, and with Scott’s level of emotional control, I knew that it would be all right to leave them alone. /I’ll talk with him later./

I turned right and continued down the hall two doors. With the new guests, we had decided earlier to stay in our room here in the school.

As I started to get ready for bed, I could catch fragments of Scott’s thoughts. He was deliberately keeping me out, I knew, but we had always agreed that his privacy would be respected. I smiled a bit thinking that it must be a little rough living with telepaths.

I could feel that Scott was still angry, but it had muted, with hints of resolve, then annoyance, craftiness, and triumph. Just glimpses. Something else, strange… maybe… it couldn’t be… lust!? I guess Logan wasn’t the only one that animal magnetism worked on. I haven’t caught that particular flavor of attraction in him in a long time. It certainly wasn’t a shock, I know his past, all of it, but it still unsettled me a bit. Probably nothing, like with me. It certainly isn’t a crime to get a little flustered around a man like that. Besides, the icy tones coming from Logan’s room are typical – he always was quite protective of me. I smiled at that.

A few minutes later, Scott stopped at the bedroom, letting me know that he needed to finish some grading before bed, work not done due to his trip to Canada. He was going to get a snack and finish in his office. He’d be up later. His mind was still closed to me, which was a little disturbing, but Scott never handled jealousy well and he was probably embarrassed. I went to bed a few minutes later, falling quickly into a deep sleep haunted by yellow bubbles. 

Scott POV

I had just finished my lesson plans for the following day, and decided to let Jean know that I had to finish some grading before bed. The trip to Canada kept me from finishing a set of papers for the technical writing class that I had in the morning. Charles let me know that she was getting Logan settled in, and that he was just down the hall from our room. I walked up and saw the light on and the door open.

I rounded the corner into Logan’s doorway. /What the…?/

Jean was standing facing Logan just a few inches away, arms up, palms near his face. She was looking down, her eyes closed. I instantly remembered my own instances of looking down earlier, and got very angry, very fast.

I just stood there for a few seconds, mouth agape, irrational fury mounting. Suddenly, Jean started, gasping and disorientated. Logan grabbed her wrists, drawing her to him. She held on, hands on his body. She looked distressed and disorientated, but it still stoked the cold fire that threatened to overwhelm his control. 

I heard Logan ask, “What did you see?” It snapped my attention from shooting daggers at him to staring at my girlfriend.

Jean looked up, still clutching the furball. Her eyes focused on me.

“Scott!” she called out. I could hear the surprise and embarrassment in her voice. Both she and Logan guiltily dropped their hands, and she stepped away from him. I realized that I was standing there with my mouth open and closed it, my face feeling like it was hardening into concrete.

Jean straightened her back, quickly exchanged a glance with Logan, then said goodnight. She walked over toward me, turning slightly to pass me in the doorway. I was immobile in shock, I suppose. She hesitated for just a second before turning right and passing down the hall. “Are you coming?” she asked me quietly.

My first sensate thought was to blast the furball into oblivion.

The second was that I was jealous of Jean.

The disjunction was making me crazy, and I just wanted to break something. The pool of cold fire in my belly bubbled madly. It was all I could do to keep control. /Never let them get to you!/ voices from my past whispered.

“In a minute,” I replied in a coldly even tone, baring just a hint of fire under the words.

Logan turned away from me for a moment, then turned back to meet my gaze. With a hint of amusement and derision, Logan asked him “You gonna tell me to stay away from your girl?”

/Direct. I can do that. Better, in fact./ I had finally gotten to the point where I could use my brain.

“If I had to do that, she wouldn’t be my girl.” My confident tone clearly made an impact, as he shifted his stance slightly to more clearly face me.

“Hmmm… then I guess that you don’t have anything to worry about… Cyclops.” 

/Derision. He thinks that this is all a joke! I don’t know if he is stupid or naïve./

“You know I’d feel a lot better if you were taking this more seriously. Some mutants take pride in their gifts. Especially those of us that are willing to fight for what we believe in.”

He looked amused, but his body language became more threatening. “Ya ever seen real combat, boy?”

/Use your brain, Scott. Be aggressive – he’ll understand aggressive./ “Have you?” 

I was thrilled when my words struck home. Logan’s face fell into a very dark look, the he seemed to drift a bit I thought. /Hit him again./

“Don’t like to talk about your past,” Scott needled Logan. 

“Not with you,” the older man croaked in a low growl.

A slight smile played on my lips. /Got him!/

“It must just burn you up that a ‘boy’ like me saved your life.” I sensed victory and my tone became almost teasing. Almost. “You should be careful, I just might not be there next time.”

I almost grinned as I reached forward to grasp the door handle. As I was closing the door, I watched him turn toward the bed. Having won the round and with my anger waning, my thoughts turned a bit. Seeing Logan’s expression made me wonder where all my anger came from. 

Finding no immediate answer, I realized that Logan had aroused me in more than one way, and I wasn’t ready for that. Anger flared anew and the door went back open. I stuck my head back in, not being able to resist a last shot. 

“And Logan… stay away from my girl” My tone was deliberately deadly, but I couldn’t help but think that I wavered, just a bit.

I shut the door, and went down the hall to our bedroom. My head was spinning, I was in a foul mood, and I didn’t really want to talk to Jean. After stopping for a moment to gather my shields, I went in to the bedroom and excused myself for a while – I had to complete the bloody grading.

I sat in the kitchen for a least an hour trying to unsuccessfully sort out my feelings, then I graded the short stack of papers in my office and dragged myself to bed around three.

Sleep didn’t come easily.

 

Logan POV

Jean crossed the room, turning a small knob that turned three rectangular lights room lights embedded in the corner of the room. “I think you’ll be comfortable here.”

I could tell Jean was a bit uncomfortable, moving a bit stiffly.

/Quite a woman,/ I thought with appreciation, nearly automatically deciding to pursue her a bit. She revved my engine since she strode into Xavier’s study, strutting like a supermodel, cool as a cucumber though I could have easily killed her a few minutes prior. 

“Where is your room?”

“Down the hall – with Scott” she said neutrally.

“Of course,” I muttered. The pup.

I proceeded to look around the room, taking a couple steps to a pair of solid French doors. Opening them, I found a large closet. Bristling at the thought of a woman like that with a guy like… that… made me angry. I couldn’t put a finger on it, but something about that guy really gets to me. With not a small amount of disdain, I asked, “Is that your gift – putting up with that guy?”

Jean’s face registered a moment of surprise at my hostility, then changed to a slightly amused expression. “Actually, I’m telekinetic – I can move things with my mind.”

I glanced back at the contents of the closet, then turned back to Jean. Intrigued, I asked “Really? What kinds of things?” 

My mind immediately jumped into the gutter. 

Just as I noted a slight change in her expression, the closet doors behind me sharply swing shut, startling me. I had to fight to suppress the urge to either jump or look, and settled for a mild flinch.

“All kinds of things.” Jean couldn’t help a small smile as I looked back at the now closed doors.

/Quite a woman indeed./

Jean continued, “I also have some telepathic ability...”

“Like the professor?”

“…but nowhere near that powerful.” Jean paused, as if considering if she should be revealing the information. Obviously deciding in my favor, she continued, “But he is teaching me to develop it.”

Impressed and slightly affected by her trust, I took a couple of steps toward her. “I’m sure he is,” I said trying for sarcasm, but ending up for something closer to respect and appreciation. Hearing my own voice, I nearly growled at the lapse. To cover, I continued forward stopping just into her personal space, staring intently into her eyes.

“I’ll bet you’d like to read my mind,” I challenged to throw her off, betting that she wouldn’t take me up on my offer.

“I’d rather not,” she replied, meeting my eyes coolly with confidence and amusement, but also hiding something.

I smelled the sharp tang of lust.

“Oh, come on. You afraid you’ll like it?” I breathed in a deep whisper, revealing my rush of hormones.

“I doubt it,” Jean countered quietly, looking slightly amused and maybe a touch flustered. /Good,/ I thought. She’s interested, but I need to think here. I tried a different tack.

“Maybe the professor is holding you back?,” I intimated, “Maybe he’s not alone.” 

The implications resonated in Jean’s expression.

“I hope you’re not suggesting that Scott is holding me back?” Controlled, but with an edge of indignation and ire. /Loyal,/ I thought.

I pressed in a deep growl, “I don’t know. He seems a little restrained for a woman like you.”

“Really?” A hint of distain in her reply. /She really has a thing for the pup. Good for him – for now./

“Just an observation.”

“If Scott opened his eyes without that visor, he could punch a hole though a mountain. I think it’s a good thing for all of us that he has a sense of control.” Cool, with true glints of steel and ire behind them. “Don’t you?”

Conceding the battle - for now – I glanced down to her long, expensively clad feet. After a moment, I turned to walk back to the closet, not wanting to anger her further. Anger was not what I was going for. /After all, she has done nothing but be kind to me./

“Wait…”

Surprised, I turned back. Jean’s look of true concern, determination, and just a bit of fear made me wish I had never meddled in her love life. She waved me over, and I complied, closing the distance between us, but being respectful this time.

“All right.” She hesitates, possibly regretting her decision. “I need you to try to relax.”

I looked at her intently, not knowing if this was a good idea. I could feel my mouth twist uncomfortably, but I held her eyes. A long pause stretched out as she looked at me intently, her eyes revealing faint hints of rushing emotions. She looked as if she might change her mind.

Apparently, she decided to take the chance. Jean raised her hands toward my face, palms in, stopping just inches from my face. She looked down to the floor, then closed her eyes in concentration. I watched her intently, feeling only a warm touch in my head.

After about five seconds, Jean startled, gasping and disorientated. I quickly grabbed her wrists to keep her from falling. Reeling, she held on to me, hands on chest and shoulder. From her reaction, I knew that she much have seen something bad, something from my past. Something I don’t remember, since nothing I remember would elicit the panic I smelled. As her eyes began to clear, I asked urgently, “What did you see?” 

Jean looked up, still clutching me. Her eyes focused behind me.

“Scott!”

I could hear the surprise, then embarrassment in her voice, as the tableau we presented sunk in to both of us. We quickly dropped our hands, then she stepped away. I glanced quickly at the pup. He looked grim. Jean gathered that incredible composure, sending me a look of acknowledgement of something shared between us. Whether she was pleased or she just felt sheepish about the situation, I didn’t know. In a calm voice, she said, “Good night, Logan.” 

She strode over to the pup with that elegant gait. Turning slightly to pass him in the doorway, she hesitated for just a second before turning right and passing down the hall. “Are you coming?” she asked Scott quietly as she passed.

“In a minute,” he replied in a coldly even tone bearing just a hint of annoyance. Though he unmistakably smelled of fury, he outwardly appeared calm, if not a bit grim. The level of control the pup displayed was amazing. I was impressed, though I’d never let him know that.

I turned away from him for a moment, a poorly repressed smile playing on my lips. /Now the pup will try and protect his bitch./

Blinking twice to fully regain my composure, I turned back to the pup. With a hint of amusement and derision, I asked him “You gonna tell me to stay away from your girl?”

“If I had to do that, she wouldn’t be my girl.” Confident, cocky, firm. /Gotta like respect that, even though I could clean the floor with him./

I shifted stance slightly to more clearly face him. “Hmmm… then I guess that you don’t have anything to worry about… ‘Cyclops’,” the last delivered with all the derision I could muster for their idiotic nicknames. 

“You know I’d feel a lot better if you were taking this more seriously. Some mutants take pride in their gifts. Especially those of us that are willing to fight for what we believe in.”

I know that I looked amused, but the pup was starting to piss me off. “Ya ever seen real combat, boy?”

“Have you?” Scott asked aggressively. He was coldly serious, pressing a button that he could only have guessed would greatly disturb me. I know my face fell into my usual dark look, if not darker, his words stinging as I searched my mind for any real recollection of combat. I know I must have. I have so many skills I have no recollection of learning. True warrior’s skills. And then there were the nightmares… I must have drifted, as it took a second for Scott’s next words to painfully strike home.

“Don’t like to talk about your past,” he needled, having obviously found a weak spot.

“Not with you,” I croaked low, almost a growl.

A slight smile played on Scott’s lips. “It must just burn you up that a ‘boy’ like me saved your life.” Sensing victory, his tone became almost teasing. Almost. “You should be careful, I just might not be there next time.”

Through the swirl of emotion and memory that whirled through my head, two startling things popped into my head in rapid succession.

/When did ‘the pup’ become ‘Scott’?/

Finding no immediate answer, the second revelation struck. I realized that I was aroused, in more than one way, and it wasn’t leftover from Jean. A surprising scent had reached me during the confrontation, one that had startling hormonal resonance. 

I know that the confusion was apparent on my face – I couldn’t prevent it.

Scott almost grinned as he reached forward to grasp the door handle. As he was closing the door, I turned to cross over to the bed, emotions swimming. 

The closing door reversed, and I turned to see Scott stick his head back in. 

“And Logan… stay away from my girl.” His tone was deadly, but I thought I also heard another implication.

/Maybe I’m wrong./

The door shut, leaving me alone with my spinning thoughts that eventually became unsettling dreams.


	5. On Mind Reading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean and Xavier discuss Logan. 1st person. Two part story: Jean POV, Xavier POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See chapter 1 for notes.

Jean POV

I was curled up on the deep red leather sofa in Charles’ office, having sought him out early for our usual weekly meeting.

“So much violence, ” I started to explain to Charles about what I had seen in Logan’s mind during our brief encounter. Logan had refused Charles access to his mind, but for whatever reason, he had allowed me in. Most of his memories were so confusing and disjointed, all I could offer was impressions. I paused to collect my thoughts. It wasn’t that he was a horrible man – far from it. He just had this incredibly monstrous thing happen to him – maybe more than once. Between the pain and the horror and the mind altering, I was truly amazed that he was alive and sane. He had done some terrible things, but it was never capricious, nor did it seem like he would have done them if he were in his right mind. And since then, things seemed to have changed. As far as I could tell, he was a decent man - aside from some understandable quirks.

I continued, “But at the same time, he’s got, I don’t know… a real sense of… honor, I guess.”

I wasn’t sure how to describe to Charles my gut feeling. I asked, “What do you think?”

Charles was nursing a cup of tea. The tea set I gave him for Christmas a few years ago, I noted approvingly.

“I think that if you are going to read minds, there are safer ones than Logan’s to read, ”  
he said to her, with just the barest hints of warning and disapproval. He sipped his tea, leaving me to fathom the implications. 

 

Xavier POV

I had been looking for Eric with Cerebro for almost three hours when Jean reached out to me and insisted that I take a break. 

*I have tea* she said, and I could hardly resist. My head was pounding from the level of concentration required to operate Cerebro for more than a few minutes.

I left the chamber and returned to my office. I was sitting in front of my desk resting my eyes when Jean brought the tea in. /Earl Gray, hot. Just like I like it/

I smiled at Jean. She was turning out to be quite a fine woman, and I was pleased. She was the closest thing I had to a daughter. We sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, preparing two cups and sipping slowly as it cooled. The warmth and the caffeine helped clear my head.

After a few minutes, I could tell Jean wanted to discuss Logan with me. I had sensed that Scott was greatly disturbed by the man last night. I could only catch a few unblocked glimpses since he was used to living with telepaths, but I knew that he was furious and confused. Jean had mentioned that she had briefly scanned Logan in the morning briefing, and when I flashed a thought of an angry Scott, she had returned with her mind’s eye picture of him walking in on them during the scan. /Ah, jealousy!/

/Perhaps, deserved/ I thought reviewing the meeting in his office that morning and noting things I hadn’t noticed. But that still didn’t explain the intensity of Scott’s reaction. There had been other men that had looked at Jean before – after all they went to different colleges and lived in different locations until the last two years. /Why so upset?/

I replayed the meeting again in my mind, this time concentrating on Scott. /Ah!/

I sighed, because this was far more troubling than Jean’s gentle infatuation. This had the much greater potential for heartache. /That’s the problem with living as long as I have – you learn when and when not to interfere in your children’s lives. It is, after all, his life./

I pondered for a few moments, unnoticed by Jean, before I set the matter aside. Logan clearly wanted to leave, so it may be nothing after all.

“Jean, tell me about what you found out about Logan.” I spoke aloud to rest my mind.

Jean’s expression relayed her confusion on multiple levels. /Not good…,/ I thought, regarding her lack of clarity on the matter of Logan. She had a great capacity to be… clinical when necessary.

“So much violence, ” she started to explain. I had had brief glimpses of Logan’s mind when they brought him in, then again when he entered the office the first time. Jean’s mind registered her impressions in general even as she mulled them over. She thought that he was, or had the potential to be, a generally decent man.

Jean continued, “But at the same time, he’s got, I don’t know… a real sense of… honor, I guess.”

I wasn’t sure how to interpret that, but it was comforting.

Suddenly, she asked, “What do you think?”

/I think that man could complicate things immensely,/ I thought to myself. 

Instead of commenting, I picked up my cup of tea and stared at the leaves. /I don’t want to interfere, but she really shouldn’t have tried to mind scan anyone, let alone Logan./

I took a sip of tea.

/Of course, you have to learn, and this _is_ a school,/ I thought wryly to myself.

I got a flash of happiness from Jean, and glancing over seeing that she was looking at the tea set. I love this tea set, and the girl across from me that gave it to me as a Christmas gift. The feeling warmed me as much as the tea. I decided to stay out of the matter as much as possible.

“I think that if you are going to read minds, there are safer ones than Logan’s to read. ”

I tried to sound as neutral as possible, but I doubt I managed completely. Jean looked thoughtful and we finished our cups.


	6. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Big Meeting. Rogue was kidnapped, Logan is asked to suit up, Scott freaks, and Xavier is forced to play father. Three part story: Logan POV, Scott POV, Xavier POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See chapter 1 for notes.

Logan POV

“Cyclops, you and Storm ready the jet. Jean, you get Logan a uniform,” Xavier snapped.

Without thinking, I responded to the commanding tone, nearly snapping to attention before catching myself. Annoyed at my almost military response, I thought, /Where in the hell does that come from?/

“Now wait a minute! _He’s_ not going with us, is he?” Scott sputtered, incredulous. He and Jean both jumped up from their perches on the red leather sofa in Xavier’s office.

I watched with interest as Scott’s eyes implored Xavier to change his mind. Jean simply looked annoyed, glancing quickly at Scott, and rolling her eyes, turned away. 

Xavier looked calmly at the pup, not the slightest hint of concern for his plea. “Yes.”

Scott, slightly taken aback, continued to sputter, nearly stammering his reasons for leaving Logan behind. “I’m sorry , Professor, but he’ll endanger the mission, and he…”

I had had _enough_. The pup might get away with challenging Wheels, but he certainly wasn’t going to be allowed to challenge my me without a fight. With the scent of anger filling my nose and drawing a answering burn, I interrupted with some heat, “Hey, I wasn’t the one who gave the train station a new sunroof, _pal_.”

Cyclops turned to me with what would have been a glare. With a snotty superior attitude, he said low and cold, “No, you were the one that stabbed Rogue through the chest.”

My mouth open prepared to retort, as the intent of his comment crashed through my brain. I could feel my indignance collapse under guilt. Then I got angry – very, very angry. The world was red-tinged at the edges and I had to seriously fight for control over the beast within.

“Scott.” Jean whispered, probably sensing my rush of violent thoughts.

With difficulty, I clamped down on my primal anima, resisting the urge to teach the pup a lesson with my fists. “Why don’t you take your little mission and stick it up your…”

I turned to the door a second before it was thrown open. Ororo rushed in. She smelled of panic and sadness. And, strangely, salt water. “Senator Kelly is dead.”

The implications of the man’s death my fire to embers in an instant. I glanced to Charles, unconsciously looking to the alpha male. /Damn! Don’t get too attached, Logan./ 

Charles looked upset. After a moment he took charge. “I’m going to find her, ” he announced, starting to roll his chair back from his desk.

/Cerebro. Right. What am I gonna do?/ I looked at Scott, who met my gaze fiercely. Fire reignited in my belly, but this time it wasn’t all anger. Scott hadn’t given up and he certainly didn’t back down when the going got tough. I had to admit the kid was quite a man. /Not gonna let him know it though./

I drew a deep breath. Scott smelled of anger and hurt and… arousal!? My anima within responded in kind. 

/Damn!/ 

I could feel the hot gaze of Charles Xavier turn on us. I raised my mental shields as much as I could, thinking, /Chuck’s gonna have to work for this one./

After an instant, the warmth in the back of my head faded. Glancing over, Chuck looked annoyed. I haven’t ever seen him annoyed. Not a good thing.

With eyes slightly narrowed, he quietly commanded, “Settle this.” 

I stared at Scott, anger fading, as Xavier rolled out of the room.

* * *

Moments after he left the office, Chuck activated the sabotaged Cerebro then slipped into a coma. When the warning sirens sounded, as I was following Jean to the elevator to the lower level to get ready for the mission after Scott had stalked out of the office. Seconds later, we discovered Chuck on the floor in front of his wheelchair in Cerebro.

* * *

Jean had stabilized Chuck in the medical bay, but she indicated that it was possible that he would never recover. I was sad, but she was miserable. Ororo and Scott came in a few minutes later, having left to cancel Chuck’s meetings and settle the children and staff. Scott stood behind Xavier’s head, looking utterly despondent.

My heart fluttered. /What is it about this guy? He’s rich and smart and smug – things I normally can’t stand. I hated him on sight, but since then…/ 

My mind whirled. /I still don’t like him. He irritates the hell outta me. But…/

/… Damn!!/ 

But all I wanted to do at that moment was walk up behind him had wrap him up in my arms. /Damn, damn, damn! You’re gonna fuck this one up too./

My mouth opened, but I just didn’t know what to say, so I closed it. The room suddenly became much, much too close. I had to get out of here. I mumbled, “Sorry…,” to Scott. I scanned his visored face briefly before fleeing the medical bay, not able to stay another minute. 

I ran outside and screamed for a while, slashing some trees to matchsticks over near the lake until my anima had calmed somewhat and Ororo came to let me know that they had located Marie.

 

Scott POV

After Ororo had blasted Sabertooth into the waiting room of the train station, there wasn’t much for me to do but sit in the middle of the wreckage and wait for someone to come and get me. I hadn’t been hurt badly - mostly my pride. I doubted that the chuck of rock that had hit my shoulder had done much damage other than leaving a giant bruise. My visor was gone, and I was deathly afraid that I had hurt someone, or by accidentally opening my eyes just a crack, I might hurt someone else. So I lay there on the floor, not moving, with my hands clamped tightly over my eyes, blaming myself over and over. I had hurt people before - killed two men accidentally on the day my powers really emerged - and I hoped with all my heart that I hadn’t hurt anyone today. As the moments dragged, my anxiety intensified, and I could barely breathe. I thought that I had just taken out the roof. I had reflexively snapped my eyes upward as I felt my visor being tugged off, but I couldn’t be sure that the structure hadn’t collapsed on anyone. 

Suddenly, I felt young and powerless, just like that very first time my beams manifested. I started to panic as the old feelings, freed of their repression, overwhelmed me. I couldn’t breathe for a minute or two, but then I heard Ororo call out to me. My battle visor had broken on the fallen debris, but she was able to get me up and out of the train station without incident and before the police arrived. I discovered later that a few people were hurt, but they would recover completely. The train station was damaged pretty badly, but Magneto was getting all of the blame. Intellectually, I knew that was as it should be, but I still felt responsible. I _always_ felt responsible, and it weighed on my mind.

Jean and Charles returned to base about an hour after we did, remaining to make sure that everyone had been taken care of. Charles had called a meeting in his office a few minutes after their return. There was just enough time for Jean to check my shoulder before the meeting. Ro was attending to Senator Kelly. We arrived first, finding Charles on the phone. Logan arrived a moment later. I couldn’t help but glare at the man. 

/What an over-testosteroned ass,/ I thought quietly so that Jean and the professor would not hear. I hadn’t noticed until later that he was still rubbing his hands and wrists. 

After he completed his call, Charles briefed us on the events that had occurred after Ororo and I had escaped the train station. Jean and I were shocked when Charles told us that Magneto had been looking for Rogue, not Logan. With the help of Sabertooth, Toad, and Mystique, he had taken her off to who knows where. 

/We have to get her back!/ 

“Cyclops, you and Storm ready the jet. Jean, you get Logan a uniform.” Xavier had snapped into leader mode. Logan, he noted, almost snapped to attention. /Probably some kind of military training…/

Then the Logan in a uniform part registered. My pulse quickened at the mental image. /Shit!/

I was instantly furious that this man could evoke the responses he was drawing from me. I wanted to hit something.

“Now wait a minute! _He’s_ not going with us, is he?” I sputtered. /That Neanderthal, coming with _us_!/

I jumped up from the loveseat in protest, Jean standing as well. To Xavier, I thought *He’s a loose cannon. We can’t trust him..*

I could feel eyes on me, but I focused on Charles alone. 

Charles looked calmly at me, not the slightest hint of concern in his eyes. “Yes,” he replied to my spoken question.

Honestly, I was shocked. I couldn’t believe that he would consider bringing that man on board. He would be a… disruptive influence. I continued to sputter, knowing that I didn’t sound very rational, trying to convince Charles, maybe trying to convince myself. 

“I’m sorry, Professor, but he’ll endanger the mission, and he…”

Logan interrupted me, “Hey, I wasn’t the one who gave the train station a new sunroof, pal.”

/Ouch,/ I thought, fire blossomed, and I glared at him. I knew that the intensity of my reaction was exaggerated, but I couldn’t help myself - the man just got under my skin. Coldly, I fired. “No, you were the one that stabbed Rogue through the chest.”

Logan went pale, then red, visibly angry. 

“Scott.” Jean whispered. Whether it was a warning or a admonition, I wasn’t sure.

Logan clenched his fists and ground his teeth, finally spitting out, “Why don’t you take your little mission and stick it up your…”

/LITTLE MISSION!?!…/

The door banged open and we all turned to see Ororo rush in, a look of panic and sadness on her face. “Senator Kelly is dead.”

The fire in my gut cooled rapidly as the rational portion of my brain tried to usher me into ‘Fearless Leader mode.’

I glanced at Charles, who looked stricken. Addressing the group, he said “I’m going to find her.”

Logan looked at Charles, then turned his angry gaze at me. Having regained my control, I met his hot with cool. Fire ignited in my belly, but it wasn’t all anger. The intellectual part of my mind, had to admit he could be quite an asset if he could control himself. 

/Can’t let him know it though./

I could feel the hot gaze of Charles Xavier turn on us, and I raised my mental shields in self-defense, though I wasn’t sure why. 

After an instant, the warmth faded. Glancing over at Charles, I realized that he looked annoyed. 

With eyes slightly narrowed, he quietly commanded, “Settle this.” 

/Dammit. My fault. I lost my cool. Good job, Scott. Some leader./

I stared at Logan, anger fading, as Xavier rolled out of the room. /Why do I let this man get to me like this?/

I had to take a walk and clear my head. Charles would take some time to look, so I turned on my heel and left the office to get some air.

* * *

Moments after Charles left the office, he activated the sabotaged Cerebro then slipped into a coma. When the warning claxons sounded, as I was walking in the gardens. Losing no time, I ran back to the main building and to the display just inside the door behind a secure access panel.

Cerebro.

/Charles!/

My heart flew up into my throat as I rushed the few steps to the secure elevator and descended to the command level. Logan was running, carrying Charles down the hall to the medical bay. Jean got him on a medical bed and shooed us out. I paced outside the door for a hour, worry and concern practically overwhelming me, before Jean broke the news.

* * *

After having reluctantly left to cancel Charles’ meetings and settle the children and staff, I returned to be by his side. In my mind I went over and over all of the things that Charles Xavier had done for me, and just how important he had become to me. He was the closest thing I had to a father. I’m not sure that I could stand to lose him. 

I stood at his side for a long time, just thinking. 

The others must have returned unnoticed because they were there when a single word penetrated. 

“Sorry…” 

The voice was low and the word mumbled. It was Logan and it astounded me that I was glad that he was here. He met my eyes for just a second before he fled the medical bay. 

In that instant, many things became very clear.

 

Xavier POV

“Cyclops, you and Storm ready the jet. Jean, you get Logan a uniform.” 

Losing Rogue disturbed me greatly – something more was afoot than the disappearance of our young runaway, but I just can’t put the puzzle together. The fact that Logan has virtually snapped to attention indicated my annoyance with myself and my lack of sleep was showing. The first deep pulse of a massive headache echoed through my head.

“Now wait a minute! _He’s_ not going with us, is he?” Scott sputtered, incredulous. Both Scott and Jean both jumped up from the settee, but for entirely different reasons. Though Jean’s mind was screened, Scott had slipped, virtually projecting an image of Logan in a military uniform. The fact that the image looked more like a Tom of Finland drawing gave me pause. My head throbbed again.

Glancing up to meet Scott’s eyes, he communicated his discomfort on multiple level through the lines of his forehead and the set of his mouth. Jean looked annoyed, who glanced quickly at Scott and, rolling her eyes, turned away. /This is not good./ 

My head throbbed louder the third time. Scott and Jean’s attractions and Logan’s maverick behavior could prove to be significant issues, but Marie’s life took precedence. Gathering some mental calm, I coolly drew Scott’s eyes and held them. “Yes,” I said firmly, in response to his spoken question.

Scott, obviously surprised at my decision, continued to sputter, nearly stammering his rationale for excluding Logan. “I’m sorry , Professor, but he’ll endanger the mission, and he…”

/Scott is nearly beside himself. This is really not good for the team./

Logan interrupted Scott angrily. “Hey, I wasn’t the one who gave the train station a new sunroof, pal.”

Scott turned to him with fire burning behind his visor. Low and cold, he nearly whispered, “No, you were the one that stabbed Rogue through the chest.”

Logan’s mouth opened and closed at the impact of the comment. The combination of his facial expressions and his surface thoughts relayed surprise, a hint of hurt, guilt, and finally deep, hot anger. 

“Scott.” Jean whispered to Scott in warning and rapprochement.

/She hasn’t noticed Scott’s interest in Logan yet./ My thoughts flew. 

The were almost immediately interrupted the rapidly approaching presence of a familiar panicked mind. /Ororo’s coming./ 

“Why don’t you take your little mission and stick it up your…” Logan, growing in height with menace.

The door banged open and we all turned to see Ororo rush in, a look of panic and sadness on her face. 

“Senator Kelly is dead.” 

After a momentary pause, everyone turned to me.

/Damn!/ Though I honestly despised the man for his ignorance and bigotry, I certainly never wished him dead. I wouldn’t wish his fate on any of my enemies. My mind spun dangerously on the various implications that the murder of America’s leading anti-mutant fighter at the hands of mutants would have. 

Shuddering slightly with the attempt to regain control of the situation at hand, I made the decision to handle first things first. “I’m going to find her.”

My thoughts were instantly drawn to Logan as I caught flickers of what could only be thought of as admiration and… appreciation… came from him as he tried to stare down Scott. There was anger, to be sure. /But lust!?/

Logan’s mental shields snapped shut as he realized that my attention had returned to the dueling pair.

Mentally, I sighed. My poor children. This was going to be painful for everyone, but this squabbling must stop for the sake of the missing girl. We need unity of thought and action!

Letting my annoyance be heard, I addressed the boys. “Settle this,” I commanded, then rolled out of the room to use Cerebro to locate the girl.


	7. A Taste of Liberty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rogue confronts Magneto regarding his intentions. 3rd person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See chapter 1 for notes.

A long, low barge crossed between Manhattan and Liberty Island. Quickly closing on its destination. It was a cool, clear night and everything was quiet.

On board, Rogue has awakened several hours ago and had struggled to free herself from the handcuffs that looped through a section of piping and held her firmly in place near the floor. After a few minutes of disorientation, she remembered trying to escape Magneto on the train. /Apparently I didn’t make it./

She could feel that she was on the water, though she was low enough to the floor that she really couldn’t see out the windows at an angle that would do much for orientation. When the cuffs wouldn’t budge, she flexed her forearms and growled softly. After a moment of concern as to why her claws didn’t pop out, she snapped back to reality. Her Logan moments were becoming shorter and farther between as her brain had adjusted to the feelings and memories that she had absorbed during her brief contact with Logan yesterday… or the day before? Panic set in when her real situation hit home, and she sat in the growing darkness on the edge or terror.

When Mystique threw the cabin door open, Rogue jumped. Mystique smiled, having rattled the girl. She passed through the cabin from the port side, checked that the prisoner was awake and confined, then exited the cabin through the aft side door. She smiled again as she heard the girl gasp. She stepped over the body of the captain, eyes staring vacantly in the general vicinity of the girl, lying in a pool of his own congealed blood just outside the door. She yanked the door shut, and strutted away to find Magneto.

Rogue sat paralyzed in fear. She had never seen a dead body before, and this wasn’t the best time for her. After a few moments of hyperventilating and choking, she managed to regain a bit of control. The minutes stretched.

/Logan will come for me,/ she thought, hugging herself to ward off the cold and fright.

A few minutes later, with a growl, /Logan had better come for me./ 

The alien anger passed as quickly as it came.

As the night deepened, her concern grew. /What are they going to do to me? What if the X-Men don’t come to get me?/

Just as her panic was about to spill into hysterics, the door to the cabin flew open. A tall man, maybe a little over six feet, masculine and muscular, but not especially either. He was handsome, dressed in dark gray wool clothing and heavy black leather shoes. His hair was longer, swept back in a way that made her think of European gentlemen. He looked old, maybe 60, she guessed. Magneto.

Rogue looked frightened as Magneto entered the cabin, absently stepping over the body to enter. He caught her eyes and held them. Her eyes widened in trepidation. /Good. Fear will keep her pliant./

He turned to look out at the stunning view of the Lady Liberty that was rapidly growing larger. The statue sparked some pleasant memories in Eric, and he stood for some moments lost in the past. Coming back to himself, he couldn’t help but comment. “Magnificent.”

In the last few minutes, the Statue of Liberty had become visible to Rogue though the window. /Good. New York. Not too far away./ 

The knowledge of her location calmed her a bit, and her teenaged petulance emerged. “I’ve seen it.” 

Magneto, unwilling to give up his memories, turned to her. “I saw her the first time in 1949. America was going to be the land of tolerance. And peace.” He turned back to the view.

Something in his tone caused her fear to return, cold and fast. Her eyes felt drawn to the body still visible on the deck. “Are you going to kill me?” she asked in a small voice.

Magneto turned back to the girl with a grave look on his face. “Perhaps.”

“Why?” Rogue choked out, her heart in her throat.

“Because there is no land of tolerance. And there is no peace. Not here or anywhere else. Men, women, and children – whole families – destroyed simply because they were born different from those in power. But after tonight, the world’s powerful will be just like _us_ - as mutants. Our cause will be theirs.” He paused for a moment, then his voice adopted a note of something akin to reverence. “Your sacrifice will mean our survival.”

The door on the port side slammed open. Rogue’s eyes flew to the giant man, where they refused to leave.

Magneto continued to address Rogue. “I’ll understand if that comes as small consolation. The machine will shut down after the mutant wave crosses Ellis Island. I would survive, and I don’t think the effect will prove fatal to you, but there is always a chance, especially since your powers are undeveloped.”

Magneto turned back to the view of the Lady, face transformed with regret and unshed tears in his eyes. After just a moment, the cold mask slid back into place. “Put her in the machine,” he commanded Sabertooth. “I’ll raise it.” He never took his eyes off the verdigris.

Rogue passed out as the huge, ferocious man with the black soulless eyes and the fang-like incisors closed in on her.


	8. A Test of Teamwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Logan achieve a détente for Rogue and Charles. 1st person: Logan POV, Scott POV.

Logan POV

I approached the gowning room on the lower level just down the hall from the med bay that I had awoken in yesterday. I had been outside, walking the grounds and thinking about just how seriously my life had changed over the last few days. As I thought of the people that I had met, I was both pleased and perturbed. For reasons that I still can’t figure out, I had gotten tangled up in the life of a runaway teenaged girl that I knew for about three seconds, almost got killed (twice), lost everything I owned (which wasn’t much), and was transported to the States to a boarding school for freaks and misfits (like me). I met a woman of a kind I had never met before (at least that I could remember) and a man that left me with both hope and fear (buckets of each). I nearly killed the girl that I had dragged out of the snow, then she nearly killed me (fair is fair after all). She freaked out and ran away, and I freaked out that she had left. We found her though, and I had agreed to protect her, talking her into staying at the school, where she would be a safe as she could be anywhere, I guess. Then Magneto kidnapped her, and I felt, perhaps for the first time, the need to protect someone other than my lonely old hide. Then they got Chuck, and they really pissed me off. My thoughts whirled on the people that I had become strange bedfellows with: Marie, Jeannie, Chuck, the lady Ororo, and Cyclops… Scott.

I had shifted my thoughts back to more neutral territory. /Think, not feel, bub/ I had chastised myself.

Chuck was an interesting guy, and his offer to help me find out about his past was intriguing to say the least. I wondered at the price for the help and the home, and was unsure if I wanted to pay that price. It is a good cause… unrealistic but good. I had always liked a good fight, and helping people that need help is a good fight. But this was a real commitment, and I haven’t been able to keep many of those (I think). I’ve been a wanderer, a lone wolf, so to speak. But they make it so easy – free room and board, nice place, interesting if somewhat intense people, kids around to teach stuff to… /Don’t let anyone know ya interested in that, stupid! They’ll have ya weaving baskets in no time… /

But then there was the fact that I am dangerous (just ask Marie), and just how dangerous even I don’t know. I don’t remember if Logan is my first or last name, if I was really in the military (or if it was a dream), or what. Was I a murderer, a spy? Trouble seems to follow me like my shadow. I was torn – they could help me a lot, and I could help them, but could I pay the price. And, if I did, would I end up hurting them all, just like all the other times that I remember?

I shook my head to clear my muddled thoughts as I entered the room. Scott was standing there clad from neck to toe in black leather. I stopped cold, staring intently, heart rate climbing. Blood started to pool in areas I wish I didn’t have right now.

“Logan, if we do this, we do it as a team. Do you have a problem taking orders?” Scott was speaking calmly, firm but with no anger or derision. My mind, as usual, went straight into the gutter, but with a mental effort, and a slight shift of the hip to release a bit of pressure, I made the transition to a sex free translation. 

/Can I take orders from the pup?/ I wondered.

It made me _really_ uncomfortable, but with Rogue missing, I had little choice. I could always leave after we got her back. “I dunno. Give me one.”

Scott walked over to one of the cabinets and, opening the door, extracted what appeared to be a leather uniform like the one he had on. “Put this on.”

Black. Leather. Uniform. On. Me. 

I forced myself to walk over and look at it, then up into the glass fronted case to see several sets on the shelves. Barely trusting my voice, I asked, “Whose is it?”

“It’s one of mine,” he said, with just a hint of satisfaction and what would have been a twinkle in his eyes, if he had eyes, if I could only see his eyes… 

/Shit!/

I changed into the uniform in the other room for one obvious reason.

 

Scott POV

Logan’s words in the med bay had rung through my head like a bell, cold and clear, and I can imagine that Jean heard it as well. I couldn’t hide it anyway, not from a telepath, and certainly not from her. After making sure that Charles would be all right until we returned, I had left without saying a word to Jean. She knew I loved her, had loved her for years. She also knew a bit about my past, and there was the additional fact that I knew that she had a crush on him. It would be all right.

I left the lab and went up the staff wing elevator, getting out on the main floor. I walked to the end of the hall, out the doors, then round the pool along the building to the formal gardens that stretched between the big pool and the Mansion. I walked in the warm July evening, and thought about events past. 

When I was a kid, just after my powers manifested, I had spent some time on the streets. Having just escaped from the hospital, eyes closed for fear of hurting anyone else, I played the role of blind beggar so I could eat. When the weather got cold, that wasn’t enough. I ended up selling myself for a warm place to stay and some food. I had had an offer one day, and after not having eaten for two days, I didn’t have much choice. It only lasted a few months, then Charles found me and gave me a life. I met Jean, and we have been together in one way or another since. I had always known that I liked both guys and girls, and I was pretty sure that Jean was aware of that. At least I hoped so.

It was always so easy with Jean. Even before I had my goggles, we were friends. I fell in love with her the instant I saw her face. We just had this… connection. We weathered going to separate universities for a while and her medical school years. It was hard, but we did it.

But lately… we have grown apart. I still love her, and I know that she still loves me. I feel it. But, there has been some distance lately, starting well before Logan arrived. Maybe it is my fault, maybe I… maybe I’m too young. The thought caused me pain. Maybe we are still too young to be together yet. We haven’t had much of a life outside of recovery, school, and now work. Neither of us had ever dated anyone else. Doubt left me cold in the heart, and I hated that. Shaking it off, I realized that Jean must have sensed the distance. She knows me. She is interested in Logan, or at least the idea of having Logan. Fine. She knows I know. She has seen him get under my skin. And the man _has_ gotten under my skin.

/Why Logan? I don’t even like him… / 

A moment of truth later, I mentally added, /…much./

Jean’s flirtation with Logan had bothered me, but demanding that she stop wasn’t a reasonable way to stop it, so I made a decision – a compromise.

/If she can flirt, so can I./ 

I noticed that I could fluster Logan, and I’m sure it’s not a product of my debating skills. 

/That way Jean can flirt, I can flirt, and as long as it doesn’t go farther than that, I’m OK with that. Or I will have to get OK with that. If I can’t trust Jean, I can’t marry her, for God’s sake./ 

Having come to a compromise that I could live with, I contacted Jean, who was resting for a few minutes after her battle to control Cerebro, and Ororo, who was prepping one of the Blackbirds, letting them know I was suiting up with Logan and that I would meet them at the plane. Logan agreed to meet me in five minutes.

I went to the gowning room and suited up. I had just finished pulling on my boots when the door opened. He took one look at me and stopped in the doorway. /Logan could be a useful addition to the team, but we still have to be clear about the situation./

I called out to him, trying to be friendly but firm. “Logan, if we do this, we do it as a team. Do you have a problem taking orders?”

I couldn’t help but add a hint of sexual suggestion to my words.

I watched the emotions run across his face, catching only the little glint that accompanies a naughty thought. /This is fun,/ I admitted to myself feeling a little rush. These days, I wasn’t much of a flirt, but I was when I was younger, though it wasn’t usually for fun.

After a moment of thought, Logan replied, “I dunno. Give me one.”

I took two steps to the uniform cabinets and selected a uniform that I though would fit, one that had interesting implications. “Put this on,” I ordered.

He hesitated a moment, then walked over. He glanced into the uniform case, then asked in a low voice, “Whose is it?”

“It’s one of mine,” I said, sinking the point home. I knew a smile played in my mind if not on my face. I watched his eyes widen, then he accepted the uniform without a word.

Logan quickly looked about and made a beeline for the other room to change. After he was out of sight, I couldn’t help but grin. From the look of his jeans as he escaped, I think I had made an impression.


	9. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan wakens in the medical bay after Rogue and the world leaders are saved from Magneto’s plans. 1st person: Jean POV, Logan POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See chapter 1 for notes.

Jean POV

After Scott had blasted Magneto in the back, I had watched in horror as Logan’s arm swung out into the spinning metal arms of the mutation device. With a sickening click, Logan’s arm was wrenched back and pieces of the device flew in all directions, some far out into the water around the island. Though there was a chance that the metal shards would fly in our direction, I couldn’t take my eyes off of the pair at the core of the device. For the very first time, I had thrown up a kinetic shield in front of us without batting an eye, without the hesitation there had always been: it had been like breathing. I had had no time to appreciate that, in fact really didn’t even think about it, until after we were on the Blackbird flying home. I just stared at the bravest man I had ever met. He risked himself over and over to save the young girl that he had promised to protect. In retrospect, I was a little star-struck at the time, and not a little jealous of the petite brunette, but at the time, my heart was in my throat and I was speechless with concern over Rogue. I heard Ororo gasp as she realized Logan’s plan, and heard Scott’s agonized groan as he fell, Marie pushing him away as soon as she realized what he had done.

I had to give the girl credit – she had immediately called for help, and seeing us, fumbled for the platform controls to get Logan down. She had hauled him out of the instrument and to the top landing of the arm stairwell before we could descend part way and climb up to meet her. Ororo had flown across the gap as soon as Rogue had gotten them to a secure place that wouldn’t be affected by the strong wind that her flight always created. To all of our amazement, she picked up our fallen Wolverine and flew him down to the plane. How little Ororo carried all of that weight, I’ll never know, but she did and I was glad. Scott and I helped Rogue down to the plane, though by that point she really only needed moral support. We got everyone aboard the Blackbird, and got out of there under cloudy cover, courtesy Storm. I had immediately assessed Logan’s condition, and to everyone’s relief, he was still alive. Barely. Rogue was beside herself - pacing, growling, and flexing her knuckles. I thought she might ask for a cigar. I got Logan’s wounds cleaned up and field dressed by the time we arrived back at the Academy. After quickly checking Rogue over, I had Ororo take the girl to her room as soon as we landed. Scott had efficiently gotten us home, but I knew that he was extremely upset – he had shut me out of his thoughts completely. He helped me get Logan to the medical lab and did whatever he could to help me get Logan undressed and cleaned up. He was a great help. I had decided that I should merely butterfly Logan’s wounds as his healing factor would mend the wounds completely once his energy reserves had been restored. One high-metabolism IV later, there was little else to do but wait. 

I had sent Scott to get showered and changed as I finished Logan and checked on Charles. There were some good signs in his mind and I thought he would recover. I contacted Ororo to see if everything was going well, and she agreed to get a few hours of sleep then take over for me down here. Scott returned, which allowed me a break. Quick shower, jean, T-shirt, and my favorite long red sweater, I raided the kitchen for a snack. Mamma Martinez had left some grilled chicken and vegetables for us. And chocolate cake. I made a mental note to give her a kiss tomorrow.

I went back down to the med lab, food for Scott in hand. I knew if I didn’t watch him eat, he would brood and not eat. He always assumed responsibility whenever something went wrong, even if it had nothing to do with him - like the rain in China. He was like that. I was attracted to his sense of responsibility, but sometimes I think it makes him feel old before his time. There were days when my optimism faltered, and today was one of them. My thoughts were dark when I arrived at the lab, but I got a little smile from him when I came through the door. It was only a little smile, but it was just for me, and it broke my mood. I waved him over to my desk, and put the food down. He had been standing over Logan when I came in, and I was surprised that he didn’t complain when I motioned for him to eat. I moved behind him after checking the monitors and started to rub his shoulders. He was tense, but it felt good to do what I could. After a few minutes, I tilted his head back and placed a chaste kiss on his forehead. After he was done, there was little else to do, and neither of us was ready to talk. I pulled a chair over to his and sat facing him, somewhat side by side, legs extended. He took my hand and we sat in companionable silence until Ororo came down to relieve me. 

* * *  
Over the next three and a half days, I kept watch over the men. Cerebra, the computer-based monitoring system that Charles was setting up wasn’t done yet, and what was up and running needed to be tested a whole lot more before I would trust it. Scott had been trading off with me for the most part when he wasn’t teaching his classes – I could physically feel his worry and guilt. He was still keeping me out, and I was beginning to worry. Ororo and Cherise, the animal keeper, also helped when they could manage around their duties. There was little to be done for Logan but keep the fluids and sugar going in. His vital signs had firmed up by the time that I had returned to the lab the morning after Liberty, and he was now just deeply unconscious. Charles, on the other hand, was still far away, and I spent many tiring hours trying to draw him back to himself. I had succeeded in drawing him back just before lunch on the third day after Liberty. He was mentally exhausted after his ordeal, but perfectly physically fit, so I sent him to his room with Scott when he came down to relieve me for lunch. Mamma Martinez agreed to take him his lunch and dinner, and I was sure that she would baby him enough that he wouldn’t want any other visitors. I was pretty exhausted when Logan began to awaken later that afternoon.

* * *  
The monitors began the slow quiet beep that indicated that Logan was regaining consciousness. Crossing over to him from my desk, I began to check his injuries, visually examining and palpating the areas that I had bandaged earlier.

Logan choked. “Hey, that tickles,” he said flinching from my touch.

Happiness poured into me like sunshine through a window. “Hey,” I said softly, looking at him.

“Hey,” he replied, voice even lower and more gravely than usual. The room grew awfully warm all of sudden, and only partly from the bits of thought I could pick up from Logan.

/I can’t believe that I have a crush at my age!/

I tried to speak, but it came out as a throaty whisper, “How are you feeling?”

“Fantastic,” he choked out with gentle sarcasm.

Recovering a bit of composure, but just a bit, I gushed like a girl. “That was a brave thing you did.”

Logan, obviously still groggy, paused a moment, and blinked twice to gather his thoughts. “Did it work?” he asked with sudden urgency.

“Yeah, she’s fine,” I assured him, smiling. He visibly relaxed. 

Teasing, I continued. “She took on a few of your more charming personality traits for a while...” Logan choked out a few chuckles. “…but we’re going to get through it.”

I paused a moment, really looking at him. I couldn’t believe that he was looking at me with such appreciation and admiration. Involuntary, I started to brush his mind.

“I think she’s a little taken with you.” I was referring to Rogue, but to be honest, I think all three of us ladies were a bit taken by this wild, gruff man.

His face became serious, and he confided, “Well, you can tell her that my heart belongs to someone else.”

I started to flush at the flattery, which would have left me happy but uncomfortable, but I got a quick flash from his mind just as he said that. It wasn’t me in his thoughts, nor Rogue. It was Scott. 

I could see him sniffing deeply to see if he had been there.

Quickly thinking back, the clues were all there. Logan’s strong reactions to Scott. He flirted with me because there was an obvious mutual attraction, but apparently there was something more with Scott. Replaying the events of the last few days, I concluded that Scott’s behavior was indicative of at least a subconscious reciprocation. 

/I wonder if he knows that he is sending signals?/

Though I felt a little flash of jealousy, the rational part of my mind knew that my attraction to Logan was a passing crush on someone that I admired. We could never be together – he was too wild, too independent, and his chaotic mind would forcibly drive me away in short order. I had never intended for my attraction to progress to action, just a little flirting. It gave me a little guilty thrill but it was harmless, and now I know that Logan feels somewhat the same. /Maybe he _is_ interested in me, but he is more interested in Scott/ 

“You know, you and I…” I started to explain, trying to clarify my view of our ‘relationship.’

Logan interrupted me with his eyes, already knowing what I was about to say. The nose knows. 

“How’s the Professor?” he asked, voice deep with emotion.

“He’s fine.” I told him warmly.

“Good.” He looked grateful, then took my hand, kissing my knuckles chastely.

I mentally sighed, then offered him a gentle smile that he returned. 

 

Logan POV

The last thing I remembered was feeling was a painful, white, tingling blankness wash across my body and mind as I stood clutching Marie to my chest and wondering what I had done in the past that was so bad that I deserved to be given exactly what I needed only to have it ripped away. In that instant, it had become clear that I needed to take care of someone, that I needed a pack to run with, and that I needed to not be so alone. Now that was gone. 

My body convulsed, then I thought, /Maybe not…,/ and there was blackness.

Eventually, the darkness started to lift, and I was dreaming that the world was laughing at me when the strong smell of antiseptic and a metallic tang penetrated my foggy, shadow-dull mind. I heard a soft beeping nearby. It didn’t sound like my alarm.

I felt hands caress my chest. I was shirtless, and the touching felt good. Then there was tugging and the sound of tape being released. The hands dipped along my sides, and I flinched involuntarily. 

I opened my mouth to speak and choked. I managed to spit out, “Hey, that tickles, ” as I tried to focus my eyes on Jean. It smelled like Jean, anyway, and that made me happy. They had brought me back. 

“Hey,” she said softly. As my eyes focused, I could tell she was looking at me intently.

“Hey,” I replied. My voice sounded like I had drank too many whiskeys and smoked a few too many cigars. After a moment, I caught just a hint of arousal. I mentally chuckled.

“How are you feeling?” she nearly whispered, as soft as I had imagined her skin to be.

/I hurt – bad/ I wanted to say, but I settled for a quietly sarcastic, “Fantastic.” 

Jean was blushing a bit. “That was a brave thing you did.”

I had to adjust my mind a bit as a whole body and mind ache came to full force. It had been like a bad hangover when Rogue had drained me before, but this was a lot worse. It made my confrontation with Sabertooth feel like a paper cut in comparison. My groggy brain finally put the events of my last few minutes of consciousness together. 

/Rogue!/ My heart leapt to my throat and my brain tried to make my unwilling body jump up.

“Did it work?” I asked Jean urgently. /Please let her be alright. Please!/

“Yeah, she’s fine,” Jean assured him, smiling. I relaxed back onto the bed, relieved. 

“She took on a few of your more charming personality traits for a while...” Jean teased, “…but we’re going to get through it.”

I chucked a bit, sorely, an unaccustomed amount of worry draining away from me. It made be both happy and intensely uncomfortable. 

/I never had to worry when I was alone./

She caught my eyes and held them, steadily returning my gaze. /She is a hell of a woman./ 

Grinning, Jean confided, “I think she’s a little taken with you.”

/Scott’s a lucky man,/ I thought, then, /Scott?!/

I smelled that he had been here, and my heart skipped.

/Fuck!/ 

Without really thinking about the implications, I confessed, “Well, you can tell her that my heart belongs to someone else.”

I looked at Jean, who really was the finest woman that I had ever encountered. I watched her flush. Normally that would have been enough to drive me over the edge into a thick cloud of lust, but all I could think about was seeing Scott - making sure he was OK. I inhaled again to see if I could smell anything amiss in the lingering fragrances.

There was a brief pause. I watched as Jean’s flush faded, the scent of arousal disappearing, and the tiny line between her eyebrows that deepened when she was thinking appeared. /Uh, oh… Fuck! Can’t fool a ‘path/ I held my breath, waiting her reaction.

“You know, you and I…” Jean started gently, with caring and concern. I could see it in her eyes. She knew. She wasn’t mad. It was OK. But I definitely wasn’t ready for the rest of this conversation. 

“How’s the Professor?” I interrupted. My voice sounded thick to my ears. 

“He’s fine,” Jean told me, kindly dropping our previous line of conversation.

“Good, ” I told her honestly. Chuck’s a good man. And this woman before me is even more special than I could have known. Thankful and humbled, I took her hand and kissed her knuckles gently.

She smiled back at me, and I knew that we were OK. For now, anyway.


	10. The Ties that Bind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan finds himself becoming attached to various people at the Xavier Academy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) see chapter 1 for notes.  
> 2) (OC) Will is a cool little kid, but he’s an outsider, and that makes him take risks sometimes.  
> 3) (OC) The lady with the horses is Cherise Nolan, the Academy stable master, animal keeper, and riding instructor. Her mutation obviously affects animals.  
> 4) (OC) Timothy Ryan is an Irishman that lives at the Academy, but is really an Xavier Industries employee. He is makes frequent short trips in that capacity. His mutation makes him a mechanical genius.

Jean was sitting in her office in the lab, trying to decide if she wanted lunch and a nap, or just a longer nap.

She had released Logan on the condition that he remain in his bedroom or on his balcony until dinner, after which she needed to bring him back down for a quick checkup. Just after he left, she had reached out to Scott to let him know to tell the students that Biology class was back on for 3PM. That gave her a little more than two hours, and she was exhausted from Liberty followed by three days and nights of caring for two challenging patients. 

She had managed to keep Logan in the med lab for nearly an hour after he had regained consciousness. She was amazed that she had managed that long. Musing, /It must be the healing factor that gives him that restless energy. Even injured…/

She had done her best to be intimidating, but she was working against the master here. She had told him that his systemic pain levels were too high, and he had acquiesced to her request that he stay in the lab. But as the time dragged on, she had caught glimpses of his thoughts, mostly wanting - no *needing* - to go, to leave. To be somewhere else, outside where the air was clean. After an hour, he was just about ready to crawl out of his skin, and with him projecting so strongly due to the pain, she was ready to do the same. He was practically vibrating.

“Get out of here. Stay in your room,” she nearly growled, giving up. He pretty much flew out of the lab, leaving only a fading voice trailing in his wake. “Thanks, Jeannie!”

/So when did I become “Jeannie’?/ she thought with amusement. The psychic quiet was a relief.

She dawdled a few minutes, thoughts purposefully unfocused, then made a quick decision.

/Grab some fruit from the kitchen for later, and take that nap!/ 

Even though she was working up a headache, she was happy – happy that they had saved the world leaders, happy that everyone was alright, happy that they had found some new friends. Even if it might be a bumpy ride.

Jean turned the lights down as she left the lab, softly humming an ancient Irish ditty that her father had taught her when she was a girl.  
* * *  
Jean had collected Logan after dinner – before he could run off to god knows where – and took him back down to the lab. He hadn’t protested in front of the children, but once they arrived, he complained gruffly, “Oh, come on, Jeannie! I’m fine.”

Jean saw red. /Damn if the man just doesn’t know how to get under your skin./

His pain levels were still high enough to keep any two other X-Men unconscious. 

“Logan, do you realize that you nearly died? You are the only person that I’ve ever met that could have survived that,” she said with genuine annoyance. 

He looked unconvinced, so she continued. “You were unconscious for nearly three days. Before this, what was the longest time you were ever unconscious? Scott said that you were unconscious for all of 15 seconds after a should-have-been-fatal car accident during which you were thrown more than a hundred feet. Through. The. Windshield!” Her voice had climbed to the rafters as her comments concluded.

Catching herself, she stared down at him, daring him to argue.

Internally, he gulped, thinking /Made it by a whisker…/ Externally, he was stoic. 

He grimaced as she pulled the sensor patches off his chest. Hair. Ow. But he didn’t say anything, not quite meeting her gaze.

“Your pain levels have dropped significantly, so I think you are in the clear. Take these. They aren’t very strong, but they’ll take the edge off.” She handed him a bottle of high-dose ibuprofen. He read the bottle and opened his mouth to protest.

Her expression grew steely, as she cut him off. “Two every six hours for the next day or so, with food.” His mouth opened again to protest.

“Or the needle,” she threatened.

His mouth abruptly closed. He got down from the table, pills in hand, and with little more than a sheepish glance in her direction, meekly left the lab. Well, as meek as Logan ever gets – he didn’t swagger.

Her annoyance had cooled quickly with his acquiescence. Jean smiled faintly as she watched him walk down the hallway to the elevator, amused at the need to mother the man. 

She thought fondly, /They are all such little boys!/

* * *  
Later that evening, Logan had gone out onto the balcony. He had slept most of the afternoon, something that virtually never happened. 

/Must be getting’ old/ he thought grumpily. He was sore all over, and his head still buzzed like it contained a few tiny bees. Tiny bees with _big_ stingers. Still, he felt considerably better than he had earlier.

The night was cooler than he had expected, but the breeze and the night scents made him relax.

His room was in the south part of the faculty wing, on the second floor at the end of the hall. His room faced away from the pool and overlooked the gardens. Black metal and glass French doors opened onto a stone balcony surrounded by a waist high wall of the same stone. Beyond the garden to the south, a rolling meadow with Chuck’s family mansion off to the east about a quarter mile away. To the southwest, a forest of mixed evergreens and deciduous trees common to the Northeast. He had approved immediately, as he could have some privacy, but could come and go by hopping down into the garden whenever he wanted.

The sky was deep blue, nearly black this far from the city, and the stars were out in full force. The garden was not empty of people walking and watching the stars and the moon. On the far side of the garden, in a place that he could not see, Logan could make out the presence a pair of quiet voices, a boy and a girl. They were speaking quietly with long pauses. He couldn’t make out the words, which was just as well. As long as they were talking, there was little chance of real trouble. 

A tiny sound above him drew his attention. The sound had been faint, the gentle scrape of leather on stone. He turned around, leaning back against the cool stone railing, and looked up. Two floors up he caught a glimpse of white – long flowing tresses floating on the breeze. /Ororo./.

She was looking out on the garden, serene and peaceful, almost invisible against the night. She had known the children were in the garden, just as she knew he was below her. He could feel her pleasure of simply joining with the night. Without knowing exactly why, he simply stayed where he was and grinned. 

Time slipped by and he was sleepy again. He went to bed with a smile on his face and slept without nightmares.

The next morning at breakfast, Ororo asked him if he would care to take a walk with her one evening when he felt up to it.

They walked the grounds the very next night and Ororo gave him the honor of showing him the estate through her eyes. 

* * *  
Since Jean wouldn’t let him leave the building, and he had nothing to do, he wandered for some time until he eventually settled into the TV room. It was mid-afternoon, and it was quiet. The kids were in classes, and the few faculty and staff that weren’t teaching were busy. There wasn’t much of interest on television, and he nodded off on the couch.

When he woke, he wasn’t alone. Class must have let out, because there were several kids in the room with him. Strange Japanese cartoons were flashing across the screen. He glanced at the clock – 4:25 PM.

A dark haired kid – Logan thought his name was Will – was sitting on the far end of the couch. Will quickly glanced at him then looked away, gripping the arm of the couch white knuckled, when Logan startled. He had slept nearly two hours! The other kids had jumped at his sudden movement.

Forcing himself to think and trying to get fully awake, he noticed that Will was the bravest – he was the only one sitting within arms reach. He chuckled to himself, filing that tidbit away for future reference.

Within seconds, the room began to fill with young kids and teenagers.

/Apparently there’s a favorite show,/ Logan guessed. He contemplated getting up and leaving, but he was getting a charge out of the fact that all of the kids were flowing into the room, dog-piling in various heaps, but no one was getting any closer than Will had. He almost laughed aloud as they went well out of their way to even walk outside his reach, but deep down it bothered him a bit.

Rogue never appeared, but the blond kid Bobby did. Ice_boy_ looked over at him as he entered and Logan let loose with a low growl. He had discovered it had been Bobby and Rogue had been out in garden last night, and he wanted Bobby to remember his manners with his charge. Iceman stopped dead in his tracks and visibly gulped in fear, pale cheeks coloring. Logan looked away, satisfied with the response. Bobby quickly recovered, but took a seat on a table in the back of the room about as far away from Logan as he could get.

The show started, and Logan was surprised that he had actually seen a episode or two of this one – it was old. At Bobby’s insistence, the kids had gathered for the encore performances of the classic cartoon ‘Pinky and the Brain.’ The series had obviously been on the TV for a few weeks because some of the kids were singing the theme song along with Bobby. Logan nearly had to drive his claws into his leg to keep from laughing. 

Logan had heard someone running quickly toward the room – too light and jingly to be one of the adults. Whoever it was stopped when they entered the room. 

Jubilee had been running late because she had forgotten to turn in her paper at the end of biology, and she had had to run it down to Dr. Gray in the med lab before she got into even more trouble. She ran all the way back to the TV room, and she had still missed her favorite part – the opening theme. Anyone could have told from her facial expression that she was annoyed, but her expression changed immediately after she had looked around the room. 

Jubilation Lee was a New Yorker and had been a street kid for a while. She was tough, quick, and savvy. When she looked around the room, the first thing she noticed was Logan sitting on the far right end of the paired central couches – and no one was sitting anywhere near him. There were kids three deep on the matching couch to the left, but only Will was anywhere near the metal-clawed man. 

It pissed her off.

Jubilee was one of Xavier’s first students – she had been there for more than two years. One of the primary beliefs of the school was that everyone was the same, that everyone deserved to be treated the same way – well, at least until they showed they didn’t deserve it. 

/Logan nearly killed himself to save Rogue. That’s damn well good enough for me…/ she thought loudly, projecting mentally to any psion that wanted to listen.

After a few seconds, a small smirk spread across her face as an idea formed. 

Logan was shocked as the girl from the doorway – the Asian girl that always wore yellow – strode up the isle way next to his right elbow, stepped in front of him, and promptly plopped down into the floor in the space between his feet. She turned a bit to the left toward the television to be sure that he could see the television, leaning against his right leg and with her left arm draped casually over his knee. 

Silence fell over the room. The girl – Jubilee, Logan remembered – hadn’t even glanced at him. She grew absorbed in the cartoon and started to giggle at the antics of the lab mice.

Logan sat there, stiffened, with a dumbfounded look on his face. He simply sat there as the emotions poured through him: surprise, fear, surprise, discomfort, surprise, happiness.

He had been rendered defenseless, and for once, he didn’t mind. He simply sat there, eyes slightly glazed, lost in the unexpected, strangely welcome gift he was just given. 

After a few seconds of no reaction from Logan, the focus of attention in the room slowly wandered back to the television. He eventually relaxed somewhat, but his brain couldn’t stop trying to process the girl’s actions. It was as if a man wandering the desert had been handed a drink of cold water, not having known what water was moments before. 

Logan nearly had to drive his claws into his leg to keep the tears at bay.

By the end of the episode, Brain hadn’t conquered the world, but Logan seriously wondered if Jubilee might someday. 

* * *  
He had gone back to see the horses, thinking he might take a ride around the estate. He’d never expected to witness what he saw.

He had been confined indoors until two days ago, and he couldn’t seem to get enough time outside.

It was early evening, still warm and pleasant, with an hour or two of sunlight left. Chuck had shown him the stables when he arrived, and he decided to have a look. He put on his old cowboy boots, the ones that were on his feet when he was brought here, and stomped through the hallways, out into the garden, around the pool and out toward the stables.

It was quiet – the older kids were studying and the younger kids were getting ready for bed – and he didn’t run into anyone along his way. As he came near the corral, he heard the hoof beats and the whickering. Quite a few horses were already out. A bit closer he could hear the yipping, singing, and laughing of a woman. The hoof beats grew more regular.

Peering around the stable, Logan realized that all of the horses were out in the corral, and they were not alone. The singing was coming from a woman in the corral with them, running and playing as if she were part of the herd. She had long, dark brown hair, loosely pulled back at the nape of her neck. She looked like she might have been in her late 30’s, and was a little rough around the edges. She wasn’t the prettiest woman, but she was absolutely radiant that early evening in July with the horses. She began to spin, eventually ending up in the center of the corral. Logan was surprised, then amazed as the horses began to circle the corral replicating the woman’s spinning. Her laughter rang out, and it made Wolverine’s blood sing. He watched, mesmerized.

After a few minutes, the woman seemed to grow dizzy, and she slowed, then stopped. She tilted her head to the side in an odd way, and instantly, a large black and white stallion broke from the others and ran straight toward her at high speed. Logan’s mouth went dry when the woman didn’t move. He opened his mouth to yell, but it was too late. The horse reached the woman, not slowing at all. Logan stood, astounded and mouth agape, at the natural, fluid movement that drew the woman from harm’s way to the back of the stallion. She giggled and they slowed with the rest of the horses, exercise time over.

The woman finally noticed Logan, and stopped, still on horseback to look at him. He felt a gentle warmth in the back of his head for just a second. She looked at him, puzzled for a moment, then dismounted. She waved him over, and a few minutes later, he was riding out in the woods. 

She had smiled at him, and knowing just what he needed, made it so.

Not a word was exchanged.

* * *  
A few days later, Logan had planned to check out the Scott’s hyperbike in more detail. He had been impressed with the machine, and being a motorcycle nut he wanted more.

After breakfast, he headed out to the garage. He found the bike, or rather bikes as there were six, with little trouble and began to poke and prod, whistling happily.

After about five minutes, he heard a large crash followed by a string of loudly expressed expletives that almost made _him_ blush.

Senses jumping to a heightened state, Logan forgot what he was doing and ran toward the source of the disturbance. He quickly dodged past the cars, van, and various vehicles kept at the academy and passed through a doorway into an area he hadn’t been shown. The garage building was good sized, and it took a minute or so to follow the expletives to their source on the lower level.

Wolverine burst into the development lab, causing a small dark-haired man on the far side of a long lab bench spun around in surprise. On a floor lay a tipped-over truss stand and an odd kind of motor-looking-device. The motor was dripping a black sludge, and there was sludge spatters all over the lab. He looked up at the man, and started roaring with laughter. 

With pale face completely blackened and hair sticking straight up with tarry goop, the man indignantly exclaimed with a lilt, “Who the hell are you!” 

Of course, this made Logan laugh even harder. 

“Oh, I need a pint of Guinness,” the man muttered, blushing around the edges of the goop at being caught being so clumsy.

“I’ll tell you what, bub,” Logan managed sputter while wiping the tears from his eyes, “if you get cleaned up. I’ll buy you that pint. I haven’t laughed that hard in years!”

Logan crossed toward the man, stopping briefly to look at the block of metal at the heart of the mess. It looked like some kind of engine, but none that Logan had ever seen. He was impressed, as this looked like a prototype. All of the equipment in the lab indicated that he could have built it right here. Realizing for once that he was being impolite, he extended his hand to the shorter man. “Name’s Logan.”

The smaller man had seen the flash of appreciation in the fuzzy man’s eyes as he had looked at his new motor. He grinned fiercely when Logan offered his hand, producing a puddle of white teeth in a sea of ink. He wiped the hand on his already black, goopy overalls and shook Logan’s hand. “I’m Timothy Ryan. But everybody calls me Tinker.”

* * *  
It was late the following evening, after Charles had given Logan the information that he had gathered regarding his past. Logan would depart the very next day. 

Charles had watched Logan come back into the main hall from the doorway of his office. He had come back from the Zoo, having gone to play darts with Tinker, then stopped up to make sure Marie had finished her report on the Ottoman Empire for Ororo, and then even managed a slight nod and a nervous, tiny smile to Scott as he passed him in the hallway.

Charles almost smiled. He had hope.

/Perhaps our lone wolf has found a pack./


	11. Leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan decide to follow up on clues to his past. 1st person: Charles POV (short), Logan POV.

Charles POV

The morning following my recovery from the contamination of Cerebro, I awoke to a bright July day in New York. My initial happiness, mostly the remnants of flashbacks to summer vacations spent here in my youth, was immediately interrupted by a piercing throb in my head. I hit the switch that drew the curtains to block out most of the light. I spent a few moments of suppressing the cranial throbbing using an ancient Indian technique, that I had learned strangely enough in Egypt, to increase the blood flow to my brain and ease the pain. I mentally called out to Jean to let her know that I was awake. She was asleep, and a quick location mental scan placed her in her room in the main building. Fighting off a recurrence of the headache, I made an quick sweep of the grounds. Logan wasn’t in the infirmary, but in his room.

/Excellent!/ 

I was very pleased and thankful that everyone was alright. Though I knew what we attempted was very dangerous and that the children did what they did of their own free will, I couldn’t help but feel responsible when something went awry or someone got hurt. I had gotten them into this. 

Catching my thoughts going somewhere that wouldn’t be helpful at the moment, I immediately refocused. I could save those musings for another time.

I had noted Scott was teaching the older students, including Rogue. Ororo was out riding horses with Cherise. My African goddess had been fascinated with the beasts when she arrived, and Cherise was thrilled with the opportunity to teach her to ride. She had become a skilled rider and they had gone to the far side of the lake. Laura Palmer, our language instructor and translator, had most of the other children in language classes this morning, but Bobby was in the kitchen.

Perfect.

*Bobby.*

*Oh, Professor Xavier, I’m glad that you’re alright!* His mental voice was joyful, but had a tinge of worry.

*Yes, I am going to be just fine. Could you do me a favor? Could you bring me some coffee, a bagel, some aspirin, and the laptop from my desk? I’m in my room.*

*Sure thing, Professor.*

Bobby was a fine young man. Though he was only 17, he was nearly ready to join the others on missions. His optimism and good natured practical jokes sometimes irritated Scott, but I personally thought he was a real treasure. Amusingly, our Iceman had a warm heart!

After Bobby had come and gone, I was going through some correspondence when I received an e-mail message regarding my inquiries for Logan. Immediately, I started to dig deeper, following the lead.

* * *  
Logan was deeply appreciative of the information that I had been able to gather over the last few weeks. He had declined a full mental scan, and I respected his wishes, though it did make the process of uncovering his past immensely more difficult. I couldn’t blame him though; he really didn’t know me all that well, and such a mind probe would require a substantial level of trust. With Logan’s background, trust in others was a rare commodity, one that only time and association could provide.

Logan and I were to meet in the lower level conference room. Julian had completed the integration of Cerebra into the holographic display table just before the Magneto issue had arisen. The other children called him Techno, but with computers, I preferred to call him genius. I instructed Cerebra to load the global holographic atlas sections regarding the western Canadian provinces. Logan arrived moments later.

“There is an abandoned military compound at Alkali Lake in the Canadian Rockies close to where we found you. There’s not much left, but you might find some answers,” I explained to him, the holographic table adjusting rapidly under my controller to show the location of the abandoned site.

After a moment taken memorizing the location, he turned to me. 

“Thank you,” he said to me, voice slightly rough with emotion.

His heightened emotional state had shaken loose his natural mental shielding a bit, and I couldn’t help but get flashes of his thoughts. He was conflicted about a great many things. Part of him wanted to run out the door and never come back, but another part of him saw himself staying here. His nightmares has eased since he arrived, and he was terrified that they would return if he left. He had promised Rogue that he would protect her, but he was fearful of staying. Trouble seemed to follow him, and he was afraid of drawing his past here, a past he couldn’t remember, but he was sure it was deeply disturbing.

Over the last two weeks, Logan had made some connections. Not that he exactly fit in, but he had started to adapt. I hadn’t needed to see his thoughts to know that he was conflicted. He desperately needed to find a place he belonged, but it was almost as if he didn’t feel he deserved it. He was desperately alone.

Since the mission, Jean had somehow became ‘Jeannie’, and along with that, the tension between them had changed and lessened. He still flirted ferociously with her, but his tone shifted from intense to playful. Scott had been very angry with Logan before I had been attacked, but that too had changed. Though there was still considerable tension between them, the tone was significantly… different. Their emotional interactions changed rapidly and often. Though Scott still occasionally got angry, it was more self-directed, but at other times, he was almost flirtatious with Logan. Neither he nor Jean wished to discuss it with me, so I let it go. 

Ororo seemed to have developed an appreciation for Logan as well. I had sensed them on several evenings taking walks on the grounds. Amusingly, Jubilee had taken a shine to our new guest as well, much to Rogue’s chagrin.

I knew that we was going to leave, but I hoped that he would return. To be honest, he needs us, and the team needs him.

I glimpsed that Logan’s thoughts had strayed back to Jean… and Scott.

“Are you going to say goodbye to them?” I asked gently.

Logan looked away, confused.

 

Logan POV

The time that I had come to dread had arrived. Chuck had come to breakfast in the school dining room and had asked to meet with me later to discuss his findings.

My feet seemed to be made of solid adamantium as I approached the conference room. Part of me wanted to run to find out what he knew, but most of me just dreaded finding out.

I had changed in the last two weeks. I knew that I had. For one thing, the nightmares had become less frequent and less intense while I was here - whether it was the telepaths or something else, I didn’t know. I had made some… kinda friends. These people were kind, and they had started to accept me as I am. I don’t think that I had ever felt that before, and I was surprised how deeply that had gotten to me. The professor was a smart, powerful man, and though I’m not sure that his dream is in any way realistic, it was something. Something good, genuine, something that was just not drifting through life. It might get them all killed, but… it was _something_.

I entered the room with my head full and whirling. Chuck was there, with the projector table activated, showing a map of the Canadian Rockies. I recognized the area – my cabin was near there. 

Chuck started, explaining what he had done and what information that he had gathered. 

“There is an abandoned military compound at Alkali Lake in the Canadian Rockies close to where we found you. There’s not much left, but you might find some answers,” he explained. The holographic table adjusting as he spoke, showing the location of the abandoned site. It was in the middle of nowhere.

I memorized the location for future reference, though I’m sure he would print me out a map. I was impressed and grateful. No one had _ever_ done something like this for me. Who know what they would do to him if they found out he was digging?

All I could manage to spit out was “Thank you.” 

I didn’t know how to explain what this meant to me, what the last few weeks meant to me. My thoughts were drawn to Jean and Scott in particular. The moment lengthened.

“Are you going to say goodbye to them?” he asked gently.

He had obviously caught my thoughts, and I looked away, embarrassed at my lack of control and confused about everything else.

* * *

I had decided to leave for a while, to go check out the Alkali Lake site and see of I could track down some leads to my missing past. At least that’s what I kept telling myself.

I had packed light, a single leather backpack that Chuck had kindly provided. Hell, it was filled with stuff that Chuck had kindly provided. He didn’t need to – I had my own bank account mostly filled with the money I made doing the iron man circuit – but I could tell that he wanted to, and he had been too good to me to refuse. Besides, I couldn’t think of any reason not to let him that didn’t make me look petty or ungrateful or just plain silly.

I had gone back and forth about telling folks that I was leaving. I had planned on staying for two weeks, just long enough to fully recover and add a little weight for the winter. I ended up staying a month. Cherise had needed help with the corral fence, Tinker wanted to take me to this Irish pub outside Salem Center, Ororo wanted me to help her move a couple of saplings from the woods into the greenhouse for one of her projects. Jeannie held me up a bit with a lengthy set of tests. She told me that the adamantium that was grafted to my skeleton was toxic to some extent, and I would have died long ago with out my healing factor. She wanted to figure out which vitamins I should take to lessen the poisoning and enhance my healing. Apparently I wasn’t eating good enough for her. And Rogue dragged me around most of the time she was free, making me participate with the others. I’d never let her know, and I complained all the time, but I was secretly happy that she did. I wouldn’t have done it without her, and it was difficult to deny her – she’s a steely little thing. I had avoided Scott most of the time, except at meals when it was difficult since there was only one dining room and everyone ate at the same time. We had only one significant encounter the whole month, and Summers was being the cardigan-wearing, loafer-clad, smug Ivy League brat that he was. I had to walk away, with the angry rush of blood singing in my ears and the rest pooling in places that made my jeans tight. The conversation left me even more convinced that I should leave before I caused any more trouble.

So, I had packed my bag. Deciding to grab a snack in the kitchen, I went downstairs to raid the fridge. Mamma Martinez was making dinner, and she frowned a little when she saw my bag, but went back to her work without a word as I grabbed some cold chicken and a glass of milk and sat down on a stool at one end of the stainless steel island. She knew ‘what was what’ around here – her nose was as good as mine.

I was surprised when she stopped on her way past me and gave me a quick kiss on the temple before bustling out of the room. It nearly made me change my mind. Nearly.

After finishing, I cleaned up my mess, grabbed my bag, and decided to have one last walk around the building. Maybe I was just stalling. Maybe.

I hefted by bag to my shoulder, and walked around the big circle of the main floor of Xavier Hall. The only room that had any activity was the game room. Marie and Bobby were playing foosball against John and Kitty, and they were squealing and laughing like teenagers do. Pausing for a second to watch while keeping well out of sight, I felt a stab of guilt for leaving Marie, but then again, she was as safe here as anywhere. 

/She’s probably safer without me here./

Steeling my determination, I quickly turned away and crossed the entry hall to the main doors - the closest way out and away from this. She must have seen me, because she caught up to me before I could get out the door.

“Hey,” she breathed, concern clear in her voice.

I stopped, the guilt back, and turned around to face her. “Ya runnin’ again?” she asked.

My words. The very words I used to keep her from leaving, I had to look away, embarrassed for my cowardice. I hadn’t wanted to face her. Anyone really.

“Not really,” I muttered. I paused for a second, still examining the floor tiles, gathering my thoughts. “I’ve got some things to take care of up north.”

It sounded lame to my ears, but it was true. Not the whole truth, but true nonetheless. I looked up and met her eyes.

She looked at me and I could see the emotions run through her. Surprise, hurt, consideration, affection, and worry crossed her face in rapid succession. The realization that she was the closest thing that I had to a little sister stabbed through my chest. I tried to explain, but my words stuck in my throat, so I reached out and ran a lock of her new white forelock through my fingers and looked at her fondly.

Her eyes briefly slid to the hair I was admiring. “I kind of like it,” she confided.

Catching my eyes again and holding them, she said, “I don’t want you to go.”

/But I can’t stay, not with my past hanging over all of our heads. Not with the damage I’ll cause,/ I thought miserably.

I came to a decision at that very moment.

I reached up and spun my dog tags around and unfastened the chain. I pressed them into Marie’s gloved palm and closed her fingers around them. They were all I had left from before I lost my memory, and they were all I had to give.

“I’ll be back for these,” I promised her. Before I could change my mind, I turned and walked out the door. Fighting for control, I thought /Thank god it wasn’t Scott asking me to stay, or I would have never left./ 

Outside, I had to breathe deeply to regain control. 

As I walked down the steps and around the building, heading for the garage, I thought that I’d borrow a vehicle to get into town where I could get something of my own. Just outside the Hall doors leading to the garage, I spotted the lean red outline of Scott’s motorcycle. A grin spread across my face.

/Well, if I can’t have him…/ 

* * *

Moments later, Cerebra noted the departure of the red hypercycle carrying one helmetless passenger grinning like a fool.


End file.
